The Last Dawn
by threemonkeys
Summary: What if the Dragonborn was not the first person to find Serana? What if instead a mysterious vampire named Croel working for the Volkihar finds her first? The Dragonborn is in a race against time to find Serana and the vampire Croel who seems to have a personal grudge against all Dragonborns. Major changes to the Dawnguard DLC.
1. Chapter 1

Geiric crept through the eerily dark tunnels, drawing his sword as he stared down below at a large cavern, glowing with purple lights from sconces. He proceeded through, noting a corpse with dried blood on its right hand lying in the centre of the oddly shaped cavern. A bit of raised stone, the length of a person, attracted his attention, as attached to the front of it was a small bit of parchment signed '_For the Dragonborn'. _He opened the parchment and then hissed in anger, sheathing his weapon as he did so. The letter read;

I know who you are Dragonborn. I have watched you when you thought you were safe, and I have seen how mighty you regard yourself to be. I see how the herd bows down before you, you the Hero from Legend, everything Skyrim wanted you to be, you were. Know that I despise you and all the Dragonborns I have known. The Dawnguard cannot stop us, not with the Tyranny of the Sun in its final days. You have failed this time, Geiric. Wait for the darkness to swallow you whole.

_We are coming._

**One day earlier**

Serana gasped as her tomb opened. She fell to her knees as the thirst that had been dormant due to her mother's magic while she had been in the monolith returned sharply.

"Lady Serana, you have certainly been very hard to find." Serana looked up to find a smug, Nord vampire looking down at her. Instantly she recoiled, distaste making her ruby lips twist down into a grimace.

"Then again it is probably due to Valerica. She always was the brains in your little conspiratorial partnership" the Nord vampire continued.

"Croel, it has been a long time." Serana hissed through her teeth. She looked around at her surroundings seeing two other vampires, another Nord man and a Dunmer woman, and three human thralls staring disinterestedly at her.

"Unfortunately," she finished, "not long enough".

Croel's burning eyes glared at her, his hand travelling down to a dagger at his waist. "Lokil, tell one of your thralls to come here."

"But Croel," Lokil began, "why-"

There was a blur of movement as Croel grabbed Lokil, picking him up over his head and threw him on top of one of the stone sconces. A sickening snap echoed around the room as Lokil's back broke, followed by Lokil's screaming. A wave of Croel's hand and Lokil's screams were silenced. Bending down towards him, eyes glowing with fury, Croel murmured into his ear, "That is _Lord_Croel to you. If you had any amount of wit you could have figured out Valerica's puzzle and I need not have come to this wretched cave to deal with your failure. Remember your place, when I give an order you follow it!"

Lokil nodded, and motioned for one of his thralls to stand next to Serana. "For you, my lady" Croel smiled at her, then ran his dagger along the thrall's throat.

The spurt of blood triggered Serana's desire and she latched onto the thrall, no blood spilling anywhere but in her mouth. After what seemed like an eternity in the tomb, this was exactly what she needed. She felt her power return to her and her senses sharpened. The thrall sagged onto the ground, dead. Serana studied the thrall more closely. "Why does her have a hole in his hand?" she questioned.

Croel grimaced, "Because your mother is one sadistic bitch. To open your cage, human blood was required." Croel's hand began to glow with a pulsating green light which faded to be replaced by a quill and parchment.

"What kind of magic was that?" Serana asked, raising an eyebrow. She had never seen a spell that produced quills and parchment before. Then again, she had never been big on the alteration school of magic. Too focused on destruction and necromancy.

"The kind that requires focus and intelligence. You would not be any good at it," Croel muttered absent-mindedly. Serana scowled at his back as he bent down to the monolith and began writing furiously on the parchment before placing it in the tomb where Serana had lain.

"Now, we need to get out of here and back to Castle Volkihar." Croel walked away from the tomb and into the cave.

"Wait," Serana called, "has my mother returned to the castle?"

Croel stopped, still facing away from her, and seemed to ponder something for a moment. "Yes, your mother is at the castle, your father was angry with her for stealing you away, but now they have reconciled their differences and are waiting for you. Are you coming?" he asked pointedly before proceeding into the shadows.

Lokil, his back now unbroken thanks to his accelerated vampiric healing, started to laugh at Croel's words. "Something funny?" Serana snapped at him angrily, "Because I seem to recall watching you scream like a little girl earlier." Lokil scowled and motioned for her to follow Croel's retreating figure. Serana walked, eager to get out of the crypt and to Castle Volkihar, where her mother would surely be waiting.


	2. Valerica's Ally

4,000 years ago

Serana woke from her slumber to find a hand covering her throat. Instantly she tried to grab the hand and wrench it away, however the strength in the hand was like steel.

"Darling it's me." Serana looked up to see Brunval peering down at her. She smiled wickedly wondering what her lover could possibly be doing in her room in the middle of the night.

"Well this is a bit more daring than I thought you could be. You know if my father catches you-"

"Serana, this isn't what you think. We have to leave here now!" Brunvald pulled Serana roughly from her bed and handed her travelling clothes. Pulling on the clothes Serana wondered why Brunvald was here. Never had he ever been so mysterious in their entire relationship, though that was mostly due to the fact that neither of them left the castle. Her father had to give permission to anyone who wanted to leave the castle grounds; though that never stopped her mother. It was a constant anger to Harkon that Valerica did not respect his authority and often lead to another rage-filled argument between the two.

"Brunvald, where are going?" Serana asked, starting to feel apprehensive about his sneakiness and urgency.

"I will tell you later. We need to leave the island." Brunvald took Serana's hand and almost dragged her along with him. Hardly any other vampires were up, as it was early in the day. When the pair reached the entrance to the Great Hall, Brunvald motioned for Serana to stop. He then held up his hand and a blue glow formed around it as he cast a spell for detecting the dead. "There's only one vampire down there, we need to sneak past." Brunvald then led Serana down the stairs and they snuck past Ronthil who was sweeping the alchemy room tiredly. Brunvald then led Serana out the doors and to a boat in the water. Serana breathed in sharply as she stepped into the harsh rays of the Sun, she felt her power and energy decrease sharply. As they neared the boat a figure shrouded in darkness stepped out of the watchtower next to it. Brunvald gasped and held up his hand, forming an ice spell.

"Brunvlad don't be a fool, it's me," Valerica muttered quietly. She released the illusion spell and became visible.

"Mother," Serana said, rolling her eyes, "of course this is all your idea. Is this still about your grand delusion that father will harm me?"

"Brunvald," Valerica said, ignoring her daughter, "thank you for your cooperation. Remember to get back into your room undetected. I do not want Harkon unleashing his minions too soon."

"Of course, Valerica. I will be quieter than a mouse."

"Be quieter than that. No one must see or hear you. I do not want Fura, Lokil, or worse, that wretched Croel coming after us just yet," Valerica snapped at him.

Brunvald nodded then turned to Serana. "Until we meet again, my love," he said softly to her, and then kissed her passionately. Valerica's lips thinned into angry line at this display of emotion. Brunvald then ran back into the castle his footsteps silent.

Serana glared at Valerica. "Mother, what is going on? What have you done?"

Valerica answered her quickly as she placed two items covered in a cloth into the boat. "We have to get out of here; Harkon has become too insane for you to be safe in Castle Volkihar."

Exasperated, Serana answered, "Just because you and father have marital issues does not mean that you are right. He's my father, he would not hurt me."

"Oh my daughter, why are you so foolish? I had thought that over the years you would have developed some wit. Harkon will kill anyone to get what he wants, and he has many powerful sycophants willing to do anything he orders. It is not safe here!"

"Mother I will not-"

"Serana do as I say! I thought you trusted me to keep you safe from any danger."

"No I will not go. I love you mother but I also love father. I will not betray him like this." Valerica paused in her activities and turned to face her.

"I did not want to do it this way, but I have no choice. Damn it Serana, why do you make everything so difficult." She then turned back to the boat and pulled out one of the items covered in cloth. She pulled off the cloth and revealed an Elder Scroll. Serana gaped; her mother must have stolen it from Harkon's personal quarters.

"Take it, Serana." Valerica said and watched her daughter pull the Elder Scroll onto her back. "Remember this if you ever need to find me, my dearest daughter." Serana looked at her mother quizzically. Something in Valerica's voice had changed. She seemed sad but at the same time she saw resolve and determination in her mother.

"I will be in a place where Harkon will never look for me."

Serana gazed into her mother's glowing eyes one last time before the spell that she didn't know her mother had been preparing washed over her and she fell unconscious.

Valerica watched her daughter crumple to the ground and sighed, before pushing her into the boat. A glowing green portal, the size of a shield opened in the air in front of Valerica. "You had better be right; I do not do this lightly." Valerica said, eyeing the portal warily.

"Of course I'm right my dear Valerica," an ethereal voice answered her.

"For how can the Prince of Knowledge and Fate ever be wrong?" Hermaeus Mora continued.


	3. The Hunt Begins

Geiric let flames fill his hand, burning the parchment on which the infuriating words had been scribed. He seethed with rage, both wondering who had written him the letter and how they had seen him while he remained unaware of their presence. Geiric mentally shook himself, forcing himself to begin planning his next move. Evidently the vampires had found this mysterious relic that they had so desperately encountered and whoever had found it had left with the prize. Geirc breathed in deeply and cleared his mind. He needed to focus; he had to find the vampires before they harmed anymore citizens of Skyrim. _Oh shit, Isran is going to kill me if I don't come back with better results _Geiric realise. He could not go back to the Dawnguard empty handed, he needed to find and retrieve the relic.

Letting his magical senses expand, he focused on the strange monolith in front of him. He felt a strange, old magic that had clearly been put there hundreds if not thousands of years ago. Thinking upon his training in the College of Winterhold he pushed past the ancient magic and focused upon another powerful force. As his mind filled with the presence of that power his magic drew his thoughts back to the day when he had discovered how to use Dragonrend for the first time; when he had battled Alduin for the first time; when he had read an…

_Elder Scroll. That is what the vampires found!_ Instantly he stood and raced out of the cavern. Now that he could sense the Scroll's aura he could track the vampires across Skyrim. And at the moment, the aura was pulling him west, towards Solitude. As soon as Geiric had left the cave he raced to his white horse Frost. Leaping into the saddle, cursing the cold climate of Skyrim as he did so, he urged Frost into a gallop. _This is not over yet. _He knew that when he found his quarry he would destroy every last vampire who had taken the Scroll.

Every last one.

**Hey everyone. Hope you are enjoying the story. I know this chapter is short but I wanted to get the story moving by adding a Geiric chapter. What do you think is going to happen when Geiric catches up to Croel and Serana? Will he catch up, or will the vampires remain elusive? Please review!**


	4. Croel's Command

Serana sighed. She did not know what to make of her situation. The last thing she remembered was putting on the Elder Scroll and her mother putting a spell on her. She also recalled that her mother had warned her that her own father would want to harm her and would send his lapdogs, lapdogs that currently surrounded her, to find her. Serana pushed the negative thoughts aside. She was free of her tomb, she was being taken back to her father and she may see her mother again in Castle Volkihar. She was currently sitting on a log warming her hands by the fire, not that she needed to, but she had not even seen a fire for, what felt like forever. _Speaking of which_…

"Croel, how long have I been locked away in Dimhollow Crypt?" Serana asked the vampire that was at the moment peering into the darkness intently.

"Serana, I was told to bring you to Castle Volkihar in one piece, not to answer your irrelevant questions," Croel said impatiently, not even bothering to face her.

"Really? Because I have lots of questions for you. Do you have any secret lovers? Have you communed with any Daedric Princes? Are you more interested in conjuration magic or destruction magic? Do you think Molag Bal loves you? Have you ever drunk the blood of a Khajiit on Skooma? Don't you think it tastes strange, I think it tastes-"

"Silence! I am trying to detect the presence of the cattle, because if they find us, this journey will become very difficult. I do not know need your pathetic attempts at manipulation. Go bother Lokil," Croel hissed at her angrily. He then stormed off into the woods, the darkness enveloping him. Serana smiled and turned to the Dunmer vampire sitting on the edge of the firelight.

"Hey you. What's your name?" Serana asked her. The vampire turned around, her orange eyes looking both surprised and fearful.

"My lady, I… I am merely a servant for Lokil, I am not important," she replied hastily.

"I want to know your name," Serana repeated.

"Vireni, my lady."

"Well Vireni," Serana said, edging closer to the vampire, "can you tell me how long I have been gone for."

"My lady, I cannot know for sure as I was not a vampire when you were in Castle Volkihar, however, from what Lokil has been saying, I assume that you have been in that tomb for about 4000 years," Vireni replied, subtly shifting away from Serana.

Serana froze. _4000 years. Oh mother, why did you leave me there for so long? Did you hate me so much?_

There was a snap of twigs as Croel returned, walking swiftly into the makeshift campsite. Lokil immediately stood up, looking to see if Croel had spotted something amiss in their surroundings. Croel snapped his fingers at Vireni, "Get up and start packing. We must continue our journey immediately. We have less time than I hoped we would."

Serana was confused. She thought that Croel was taking her back to Castle Volkihar because her parents wanted to see her again, but Croel made it sound like they were being pursued, or had a specific time that they had to reach the castle by.

"Croel, what is going on?" Serana asked, frowning at his rudeness towards Vireni. She liked the Dunmer, even if she was a bit too shy around her. Croel once again ignored her, muttering to himself about what sounded like a 'Dragonborn'. She turned to Vireni and asked her what Croel meant by Dragonborn.

"I am sorry my lady. I should have told you. There has been an emergence of another Dragonborn; he defeated Alduin, the World Eater, and has become the Harbinger of the Companions. Lord Harkon ordered his followers to attack Skyrim's holds and since then the Dragonborn has become one of our staunchest foes. Croel must be afraid that the Dragonborn is catching up on us," Vireni said quickly while packing up the group's belongings and handing them to the thralls.

"No," Serana said glancing at Croel who was staring once again into the darkness. She looked into his glowing eyes and saw a hunger in them, not hunger for blood, but for conflict, fighting and war. "I have never known Croel to be afraid of anything. Not even my father."

"But my lady, this mortal, he's… he's invincible. Some of our best fighters have gone up against him and they all have been vanquished."

There was a blur and then Croel appeared next to them.

"First of all Vireni, I told you to pack, not to fraternise with the little Princess over there," Croel whispered ominously grabbing Vireni by the throat and lifting her into the air. Serana protested angrily at the use of Princess to describe her and Vireni's treatment from Croel, but once again he ignored her.

"And secondly, the best fighters of the Volkihar did not go against the Dragonborn," Croel added clenching his fist around her throat; making her gasp in pain as his elongated nails drew blood.

"I am the best fighter the Volkihar has to offer, and I have not yet been vanquished. Nor shall I be," Croel released Vireni and she fell to the floor before picking herself up.

Serana, furious at Croel's actions said, "But have you actually ever fought the Dragonborn yet, my dear Croel?"

Croel turned and glared at Serana before walking away. Serana smiled smugly at his retreating back.

"Oh, Lokil? You won't need to carry that pack. Give it to Vireni, you will be staying behind."

Lokil gaped at Croel, his mouth opening to question Croel's orders.

"You need to stay behind in order to slow down the Dragonborn. Know that the sacrifice you make will be for the good of the Volkihar," Croel said, smiling malevolently at Lokil. Lokil stared at Croel limply before turning to run. Swiftly Croel's hands lit with purple light and chains formed around Lokil's legs and tied him to a tree.

"Those chains will disappear when the Dragonborn finds you. Good luck and I thank you for your noble cooperation." Croel turned away. "Come Serana, Vireni. We have a long way to go."

Serana and Vireni silently followed after him, each trying and failing to block out Lokil's screams and cries for mercy. Mercy he would never get from the Nord vampire who led the group away from the fire and into the darkness. 

**Hello. Hope you enjoy this chapter. It is kind of long but I wanted to establish Vireni as well as finally finding a way to get rid of Lokil. I think he deserves whatever Geiric will do to him when he catches up. What do you think will happen when the vampire and the Dragonborn meet? Please review!**


	5. Chained

The sun was burning down onto Lokil's back as he struggled to free himself from Croel's infernal magical chains.

_The chains will disappear when the Dragonborn arrives._

He pulled against them, but they remained strong against his efforts; he pulled until the chains bit into his wrist, drawing blood and still the chains did not budge.

_The chains will disappear when the Dragonborn arrives._

He heard a twig snap behind him and Lokil's head snapped round instantly, fear radiating from his body as he imagined the Dragonborn breathing fire and swinging a sword at him. Instead of the almighty Dovahkiin however, a deer poked its head into the open area of the campsite staring at Lokil curiously. Lokil hissed at the deer and it scampered away, free. Something Lokil had not been for a long time, ever since Harkon had tasked him with finding his Elder Scrolls.

5 years earlier

Lokil strode through Castle Volkihar, nodding politely to both Vingalmo and Orthjolf as he passed them arguing at the entrance to the Great Hall, as they always constantly were. That argument had lasted longer than Lokil had been a vampire and neither Vingalmo nor Orthjolf were likely to back down anytime soon. Lokil sat down next to Fura who was already tearing into one of the cattle laid down on the table in front of them. Vireni sat down on the other side of Lokil, meekly waiting for her master to give her an order. Lokil sighed, it had been a long night and Harkon's temper had been worse than ever, as the obscurity of the prophecy caused another restless night for the Lord of the Castle. Just as he had signalled for Rargal to bring him a thrall a voice interrupted his solace.

"Lokil, report to the cathedral immediately. Bring your protégée Vireni with you."

Lokil glared up at the vampire calling him, about to give the vampire a piece of his mind when he realised the vampire was none other than Harkon's most trusted, and most feared, advisor Croel. Lokil swallowed his retort and stood up, motioning for Vireni to follow him. They followed Croel out of the main hall and through the darker, less populated hallways until Croel pushed open the massive double doors that were the entrance to the cathedral. Croel vanished into the dim blackness of the room, Lokil hesitated, looking back at Vireni's scared face, before stepping into the room. He could see the shrine to Molag Bal, and the blood spilling from the shrine, he saw Croel stepping up towards the shrine, respectfully nodding his head towards it. What he did not see was Lord Harkon stepping from the shadows behind him and shutting the doors with a sonorous clang. Lokil jumped and Vireni gave a small shriek of fright. Harkon strode to the shrine, brushing past Lokil and nodding to Croel before bowing deeply to the shrine. Harkon turned back to glare at Lokil and Vireni.

"Show your respect to our almighty creator!" he hissed at them.

Lokil immediately ran to the shrine and knelt before it obstinately before pressing his forehead to the ground in front of it to show his respect, Vireni copying her master. Croel gave a snort of derision at their performance. Harkon seethed in anger before telling them both to get off the ground.

"I summoned you here because I have a task for you, a task that may take many years." Harkon explained, running his fingers in the blood of the shrine.

Lokil and Vireni glanced at each other nervously before Lokil asked, "And what is this task you have set us, my lord?"

"I want you to find my Elder Scroll… and my daughter Serana. However the Scroll is of the upmost importance. Find them and you will receive many rewards. Fail in this task…" Harkon licked the blood off of his fingers.

"I think they get the picture, my lord." Croel added. Harkon nodded and dismissed them with a wave of his fingertips still staring into the pool of blood.

Present

Lokil pulled and pulled and pulled and pulled and pulled.

_The chains will disappear when the Dragonborn arrives._

Croel's words echoed through his head and a terrifying thought entered into his head. What if the Dragonborn never came? Would he be chained to this tree, slowly dying from a lack of blood? He could already feel that itch in the back of his throat which signalled he was beginning to get thirsty. Another twig snapped behind him the sound echoing around the clearing. However this time Lokil ignored it, confident it was just a deer.

_And then the chains disappeared._

**Lokil is in big trouble now. What did you think of the flashback? Did I portray Harkon as sinister as I could have? Did you feel a twinge of sympathy for Lokil, he didn't ask to find Serana, he was just unfortunate enough to be ordered by Harkon to find the Scroll. Does he deserve to die? Please review!**


	6. Chained No More

Geiric's magic led him into a small wood on the borders of Hjaalmarch, near the Hold of Morthal. Geiric did not like coming here, the swamps were putrid, the townsfolk were unfriendly, and there seemed to be more problems in Morthal than all the cities of Skyrim combined. However if there was one thing he did like about Hjaalmarch it was the Jarl, Idgrod Ravencrone. She was always so strange to be around and yet also caring and warm towards her people, which is something many people often missed due to her claims to be able to see the future. Another good thing about Morthal, Geiric remembered was the Jarl's daughter, Idgrod the Younger. Now there was one pretty Nord maiden. Geiric mentally shook himself and focused on his task. He carefully slipped off his horse as his magic coalesced around a small clearing. The pool of blue light roiling around the area showed that the vampires must have stopped here for a while, as the magic the Elder Scroll radiated was detected by Geiric's own magic. Geiric was just about to move on when he heard a voice. He paused, crouching low in the trees and looking closer into the clearing. Still not seeing anything Geiric reached for the power inside of him and whispered "_Laas… Yah…Nir_". The magic of the Shout washed over the wooded area and highlighted the undead presence on the other side of a large oak tree. Geiric smiled evilly, drawing his sword. Finally he had caught up with one of them. He assumed that this one had been left behind to slow him down, however Geiric knew that he would not waste too much time with this lone vampire. Killing him would be easy and pleasurable. Geiric crept round the clearing, still hidden by the trees, towards the vampire. He had killed enough of these creatures to know that catching them off guard was rare, but if managed, would be fatal for the vampire. Geiric readied his left hand with a powerful destruction spell, lighting crackling around his fingertips whilst his other hand tightly gripped his shiny ebony blade. He proceeded forward very sneakily, hoping to catch the vampire unawares… which is when he stepped on a twig.

A loud snap echoed around the woods, and the chains around Lokil's hands and legs disappeared instantly. Lokil's pupils dilated in fear as his eyes scanned all around the forest. He knew the Dragonborn was here in the clearing with him, but where _exactly_ was he? Lokil's hands glowed a bluish-purple as he prepared to cast the Detect Life spell when a man wielding a dark blade ran out towards him, lightning arcing from his hand towards Lokil's chest. Only Lokil's superfast reflexes saved him from a second, more permanent death. He threw himself to the side as the bolt raced towards him. It missed his chest but hit his shoulder and Lokil screamed in pain as it burnt his flesh. The power behind the offensive magic pushed him backwards but he leapt to his feet again, hissing in pain at the aching in his shoulder. He thrust his hand out towards the Dragonborn and attempted to drain his life. The man sagged but mustered enough energy to Shout "_Fus…Ro…Dah!_" Lokil was blown off his feet by the power of this magic and was thrown back into the tree that he was previously chained to. Head swimming and cursing the Dragonborn, Croel and Harkon, Lokil raised his hand again to try and drain the life from him again. However the sword the Dragonborn was carrying flashed once and Lokil saw his hand sailing off into the forest. Lokil screamed once again but was silent when the Dragonborn held the dark blade against his throat. Lokil, still sobbing slightly, wondered what he could do to survive the next few moments of his life. Or even if there was the possibility of the man not killing him right now.

Geiric sighed in relief as he saw the fight in the unknown vampire disappear, and resignation filled those burning eyes. Geiric noticed that the vampire was dressed in the same apparel that the vampires who had been attacking the Holds of Skyrim had been wearing. Geiric decided not to execute the vampire just yet. "Who are you?" he questioned.

"My name is Lokil and I am a member of the Volkihar clan. I was not trying to hurt you bu the way, I was simply trying to break free of my chains and-" Lokil began.

"Silence. Do you take me for a fool? Of course you were trying to kill me. You are a vampire and you… wait did you say you were chained?" Geiric said. He was very surprised. He had thought that the vampire had been lying in wait for him and now the vampire revealed that he had been kept here against his will? What was going on?

Lokil nodded at Geiric's question. "Yes, my superior, Croel, thought that I could slow you down by remaining here however I was not so keen. When I turned to flee, he used some kind of Conjuration spell to chain me here. He told me that the chains would disappear when you, the Dragonborn, arrived."

Geiric's head was a jumble of thoughts. That a vampire would so callously leave his fellow comrade to die to merely slow him down shook him. All the vampires he had come across had defended each other vigorously; however this one did not seem to have the same kind of passion for his clan. Geiric returned his attention to the vampire in front of him. "What were you looking for? Was it an Elder Scroll?" he asked of Lokil.

"Yes," he replied "and also for the daughter of the lord of my clan. She had been missing for thousands of years but recently we received a tip from a man dressed in strange robes that we would find her in Dimhollow Crypt. I and my apprentice found the cave but we could not find Serana, that's the daughter of our lord Harkon by the way, so Lord Harkon sent his advisor Croel to help us. We then left with her and the Elder Scroll for Castle Volkihar." Lokil then paused, realising that he could never return to his home. If Croel found him there while the Dragonborn was still alive then he would know that the Dragonborn had let him live because he had betrayed them all. Lokil felt an empty sensation win his stomach. He would either die here by the Dragonborn's hand or he would spend the rest of his life hiding from Harkon and the rest of the Volkihar.

Geiric looked down at the vampire, three questions at the forefront of his mind. "I only have a few more questions for you before we finish here." Lokil gulped at the sinister implications of the Dragonborn's words.

"Firstly, where is Castle Volkihar?"

"It is on an island off the coast of the western end of Solitude, by Icewater Jetty. If you travel by boat from there you will find the castle. It is inhabited by the royal court of the Volkihar." Lokil also murmured under his breath, "It was my home."

Geiric nodded, committing the directions to memory. "Next I want to know if the vampire Croel wrote anything while you were in Dimhollow Crypt."

Lokil's eyes widened as he remembered that Croel had in fact produced ink and parchment via a spell and written upon it. "Yes he did. Why is that important?"

"Because," Geiric said, clenching his teeth in anger "that is a vampire I will need to have a long… _discussion_ with in the future. Do you know why he hates all Dragonborns?"

"No, I did not even know that he had met one. Then again, Croel has been very secretive about his life. Only Harkon would know what he gets up to." Lokil replied.

"Finally," Geiric said, eyes piercing Lokil's, "who is the man who gave you the tip about Dimhollow Crypt?"

Lokil paused, remembering the strange encounter with the man, who had seemingly appeared from nowhere and given the information that Lokil and Vireni had sorely needed.

"I have no idea. He disappeared after he told us about Dimhollow. All that I can remember of him is that he was wearing strange robes and an even stranger mask."

Geiric sighed in frustration. He did not think that Lokil would know but he had to ask. Now, however, he needed to get moving. He drew his sword and prepared to end the vampire's life. "Wait!" Lokil yelled. "I can be useful to you still; just don't kill me, please!" Lokil begged.

"Why should I not? How could you be useful to me?" Geiric said, snorting and raised the sword higher.

"Because there is still much you do not know. The Tyranny of the Sun. Lord Harkon and his quest for power. How Serana fits into this. The other plots and machinations of the vampires in Skyrim. I know most of them! Just let me leave and you will be much better prepared for the war that you do not even know you are waging." Lokil threw himself onto the ground, blood still leaking from where his left hand had been cut off. "Please. I can be useful to destroying your enemies!"

Geiric looked down at the prostrating vampire and wondered what he should do next. Keeping the vampire alive would mean that he would get valuable information but Isran would kill him. He would not be welcome in the Dawnguard any longer. However, Geiric was tired of that infuriating Redguard and his band of prejudiced fighters. He would strike out on his own. To fight the vampires he would need people backing him up, Geiric thought. Then he realised where he could get a band of warriors dedicated to helping him. He smiled viciously and that smile terrified Lokil greatly.

Skulryr looked through the magical green orb that he had produced and smiled. He saw the Last Dragonborn conversing with Lokil the vampire and he also saw Croel, Serana and the rest of their group making their way to Castle Volkihar. He dismissed the orb with a wave of his hand and turned around to face his Master. "Everything is going according to plan. The Dragon and the Shadow Walker will find one another." His master nodded to him and turned around, his eyes gazing over the army that lay before him.

"And there will be war."

**Very sorry for how long it has been since the last chapter but I have had many exams in school, so once again, very sorry. Hope you like the new chapter, it's quite long compared to some of the others but I had so many ideas to put in that it just made the chapter longer. Will Lokil get another chance at life? Will Geiric find out who the mysterious man with the mask is? What is happening to Serana and Croel? Please review and tell me what you think!**


	7. Honor Bound

The moon shone brightly in the night sky. The small group trekked through the marshes of Hjaalmarch while animals rustled in the undergrowth. Croel held up his hand and the group halted while Serana rolled her eyes. They barely made a hundred metres before he would stop them again. They had only just passed the town of Morthal; you would think that Croel would not be too worried about the dangerous wildlife.

"Croel, you do realise that there are three powerful vampires in this group, as well as the thralls. What could possibly hurt us?" Serana snorted, exasperated with the slow going. She desperately wanted to see her father and mother again, before they all died of old age, and that is saying something for vampires.

"You know Serana, last time I checked you were stuck in a tomb for the last four thousand years. How in Oblivion would you know what dangers there are?" Croel hissed, turning around to face her, burning orange eyes flashing dangerously. "And also, there are not three powerful vampires. There is just one. Me. You are a spoilt little girl that thinks she understands magic, the thralls and Vireni, who by the way has spent her entire undead life serving Lokil. Lokil! A man whose entire ambition in life during his time at the castle was to be unnoticed by his betters. What does that say about her?" Croel added spitefully, glaring at Vireni who shrank back into the gloom under his gaze. Serana rounded on Croel, yelling:

"You know I have never seen you do anything worthwhile Croel. In the past you used to just slink into the hall every few days, fawn over my father, and then leave again. I think that even Vireni, in her time as a vampire, has probably done more for the clan than you have, you obstinate braggart!"

"Please don't bring me into this my lady." Vireni mumbled quietly from behind Serana's shoulder.

"Silence, idiot. Do not speak unless spoken to." Croel said, looking angrily at Vireni. Serana, furious that Croel was being nasty to the only person in four thousand years that she had made friends with was about to yell even more when Croel held his hand up, again. This time however, Serana did not roll her eyes, and she did not speak. Something in his posture told her that he was on edge. His body seemed tense and he crouched down, his eyes scanned every corner of the trees. Serana reached into her magicka reserves and readied an ice spell in her left hand and pulled a small elven dagger out with her right. Vireni also pulled out a blade, eyes nervously looking in every direction. Then suddenly Croel stood up, hands dropping to his sides, his mouth narrowing into a thin line.

"I do not appreciate you sneaking up on me. Lesser vampires should approach the Volkihar, especially me, with respect." Croel said into the darkness. A vampire stepped from the darkness behind Croel smiling widely.

"But, my lord Croel, how else can I work up the courage to approach your magnificence, and these two lovely ladies before me," the unknown vampire commented, still smiling.

"That _lovely lady_ is in fact Serana, daughter of Lord Harkon and Valerica, and she is more important than all of your coven put together. We will require accommodation for the day by the way." Croel said before walking past the vampire into the night. The thralls followed him, muttering and murmuring as they did so.

The vampire looked disgruntled for a moment before walking over to Serana and Vireni.

"I believe introductions are in order," the vampire said before reaching for Serana's hand and kissing it. "It is a pleasure to meet you Serana," he said. She inwardly laughed at his dramatics. "And you also, Vireni," the vampire continued also kissing Vireni's hand. Serana thought that Vireni actually blushed when he did so.

"And I," the vampire said, beaming at the both of them, "am the humble Movarth Piquine."

Lokil stared up at the Dragonborn's face, wondering what he would do with him next. Geiric, in turn stared back at Lokil, his eyes searching the vampire's, still undecided about what to do. _Keeping him alive would be useful, but how can I trust him? _Geiric thought to himself. Then he smiled, thinking back to his training with the Greybeards. After he had destroyed Alduin they advised that he meditate on the Words of Power, and the Dragon Language as a whole, to master his Thu'um. While doing this, Geiric had stumbled upon a Shout that he had never seen on a Word Wall, or heard used before. He was not arrogant enough to assume that he had created a whole new Shout; instead he assumed that he had just uncovered an ancient, forgotten one. Geiric turned back to Lokil and judged him silently.

"If you want your life not to be ended this day," Geiric said, "then you must swear undying loyalty to me and my cause."

Lokil nodded profusely, he would do anything to continue his life, even if it meant working with the Dragonborn. Secretly though, Lokil knew that when the Dragonborn became complacent, he would leave him and make his own way in Skyrim.

Geiric narrowed his eyes at the vampire, before saying, "If that is so, repeat after me. _Zu'u los hinro wah uth wah oblaan do dii sul_."

Lokil stared at him, suddenly anxious. Those words held a power to them; he could feel it in his bones. He was just about to ask why when the Dragonborn pushed his sword closer to his throat. Gulping, Lokil repeated the words.

Geiric smiled, before Shouting: "_Zin… Mid… Gro!_" A wave of green energy washed over Lokil and the words he had just said appeared before him, bathed in a golden light. As he watched, the words rushed towards him before vanishing inside of him. Lokil screamed as fire filled his body, and he clawed at himself, shrieking all the while. Then, the fire and the pain vanished, and Lokil lay panting on the ground.

"What did you do to me?" Lokil asked, panic filling his voice. Geiric placed his sword back onto his sheath and whistled for Frost to come to him.

"You just promised to serve me till the end of your days, and my Shout enforced that. Try and break your promise, and not even Molag Bal himself could save you from your fate." Geiric said. "Now hurry, and get up. I want to get to Morthal before the light of day. I am still chasing after that Croel you are so afraid of." He turned and got on his horse as Lokil stood up. As Frost trotted towards Morthal, Geiric could not resist adding a parting shot at Lokil.

"Oh and when I say _I_," Geiric said, "I mean _we_ are chasing after Croel. It's going to be a lot of fun when you two meet again." Lokil stared at Geiric for a moment before running away from him, trying to get as much distance between himself and the Dragonborn as possible. Or at least he tried. As he so much as thought of running away, the fire returned with a vengeance, reducing him to a shrieking heap again. Geiric smiled satisfactorily before urging Frost onwards again. Lokil, sighing, picked himself off the ground before following his new master towards Morthal.


	8. The Shadow of Tamriel

Serana followed Movarth through the darkness of Morthal's swamps until they reached a small cave. Movarth motioned for them to enter saying, "this is my humble abode. Here it is safe from the cattle, and this is where the rest of my coven is. Please do come inside." He then frowned and added, "I'm sure that Croel has already made himself comfortable." Movarth then disappeared into the cave entrance. Vireni looked at Serana who said, "I know that it is not Castle Volkihar, but it's better than nothing." Vireni nodded at her comment before disappearing into the dark entrance, Serana quickly following.

She and Vireni walked along a narrow tunnel and encountered a thrall who moaned something unintelligible at her. She had always despised how subservient and vacant that the thralls were once a vampire had claimed one as their own. She had often complained about this to her mother, who had reprimanded her for 'spending too much time worrying about the cattle and not enough on her studies'. Serana moved past the thrall, grimacing slightly as she did so. She kept going through the tunnel, finding other ones curving off at other directions. She was amazed at how expansive the cave appeared to be. While the cave was not a patch on the Volkihar clan's home, she admired the resourcefulness of Movarth and his coven. They had managed to remain undetected by the mortals and survived, no, thrived in this small cave.

She saw many vampires and thralls staring at her and Vireni as they passed. Serana finally found Movarth and Croel in an animated discussion in a big cavern at the end of the tunnel. Serana walked down the wooden ramps towards the vampires, catching a small snippet of their conversation. Movarth said "yes, he is waiting for your report. Perhaps after the feast, we could communicate with-" before noticing that Croel was motioning for him to stop talking. Movarth turned around and grinned widely as Serana walked towards him. "You know," Movarth said, "you look even more beautiful in this cave, surrounded by torchlight, my lady. " Serana smiled slightly, before turning to Croel. "Why are we staying here? We could easily continue through the night and on into the day. It won't bother us very much, so why are we here?" Serana asked suspiciously. Before Croel had been in a great hurry, now he wanted to _rest_ in this cave? Something did not add up. Croel sneered at her imperiously before saying, "my reasons are my own, but if you must know, Lord Harkon gave me a message to deliver to Movarth here. Movarth's coven has acted upon his behalf before, and Harkon now has new instructions for him. I thought that you and Vireni would welcome a break and I need to find out how close the Dragonborn is behind us." Serana nodded before turning to Movarth. "Where are we going to stay?"

"Ah," Movarth began, before waving at an Argonian vampire who was waiting by the stone feasting table in the centre of the room. "This is Beem-Ja, my Quartermaster. He will sort you out with rooms. I suggest that you get settled and freshen up, as I am planning to hold a feast in your honour, a sort of 'welcome back to Skyrim' party." Movarth smiled at them before moving off into the darkness. Croel, who apparently knew where he was going to be staying, also disappeared. Beem-Ja calmly asked the two women to follow him further into the cave.

Geiric stopped Frost just on the edge of the forest as he looked out on the small town of Morthal. Lokil, who was following behind and had not looked up, walked straight into Frost's ample rump. Spitting and cursing, Lokil glanced at Geiric who had slid off the back of Frost and was searching through his saddlebags. Eventually, he retrieved a plain, brown hood. "Put this on," Geiric told Lokil, "we cannot let the townsfolk of Morthal see you. The townfolk are fearful of your kind, and with good reason to. People have been disappearing and there is a rumour that an entire vampire coven has set up a lair in a cave nearby. One of these days I will have to check that out, but for the moment, you must wear this hood." Lokil obliged silently, not bothering to reply. They then proceeded into the town, Geiric leading Frost by his reins. He tied up the horse outside the town's inn, the Moorside Inn, and told Lokil to get inside and save him a seat. Geiric then went to a small shop run by the East Empire Trading Company and asked for a courier. A fresh-faced young man exited the shop, beaming at Geiric's unamused face. "What can I do for you, sir?" the courier asked, still grinning unnervingly. Geiric looked him up and down questioningly before saying very slowly, "I want you to deliver a message to the people living in Sky Haven Temple. It is a small camp in the reach, near Karthspire. Deliver this message and do it fast. It is a matter of upmost urgency. Here is your gold." Geiric handed the man 100 septims. The courier gaped at the massive amount of money he had been paid. "I'll be right off then." The courier began to jog off down the road before he ran back to Geiric. "Whom is the letter for exactly?" he asked. Geiric smiled before saying, "a blonde Breton bitch who cares too much about her rules and not enough about compassion and forgiveness." When the courier looked confused Geiric added, "she goes by the name of Delphine."

Lokil looked up as Geiric entered the inn once more. He had tried to be inconspicuous whilst in there to avoid any unwanted attention. An orc bard had tried to start up a conversation but had been repulsed by Lokil. The only other person in the entire place who had paid him any attention was a Nord woman who kept staring at him. Something felt off about her but the throbbing pain in his left arm from where his hand had been cut off kept him from focusing on the woman too intently. Geiric had then entered and proceeded to sit down at his table. Geirc leaned over the table and murmured, "I have made contact with my allies but now it is time for you to tell me a few things about the Volkihar, Croel and this Serana." Lokil nodded and began to tell the Dragonborn all about the vampires uprising and the Tyranny of the Sun.

Serana lay down on her bed, placing the Elder Scroll on the table next to her. She turned and saw Vireni was also preparing for bed. The Dunmer vampire was getting undressed and when Serana had turned around she glimpsed Vireni's naked body. Serana had quickly turned away blushing furiously, she was not inclined that way but she still felt a little thrill at seeing Vireni that way. She had not seen another person in four thousand years she told herself before facing the wall of the cave and closing her eyes.

Vireni herself sighed. She had hoped Serana would see her as she undressed, and she liked how she saw how much Serana flushed, but she did not like how quickly she had turned away. Vireni found Serana achingly beautiful but had not the courage to tell her so. _She's too good for me anyway_, she told herself. _She's a Lady of the Court, a Daughter of Coldharbour, and what are you. Just another Volkihar lackey_. She too turned away from Serana, facing the wall and closed her eyes.

Movarth watched the two women fall asleep. He had been watching for quite a while, observing them both as they got ready for bed. He could see why so many men had fallen for Serana's good looks; indeed he had admired the muscles and perfect curves Serana possessed. Vireni, who was not bad looking herself, paled in comparison to Serana's allure. He shook himself, focusing on his job. He stepped silently into the room, an invisibility spell active, and took the Elder Scroll from the table next to Serana. Giving her one last admiring gaze, he stole away from the room to the cavern that contained his feasting table. He walked to the edge of one of the walls and pressed a small, almost unnoticeable button. A small section of the wall fell away, revealing a secret room, containing only a small table with a dark orb atop of it, two chairs, and one other vampire standing in the darkness. Movarth casted the Candlelight spell and Croel's features were revealed. Noticing the Scroll clutched in Movarth's hands he sat down in one of the chairs and placed his hands upon the orb. Movarth placed the Elder Scroll on the table, next to the orb, before sitting upon the one remaining chairs. He too placed his hands on the orb. The door to the secret room closed and once it had done so a surge of darkness sprang from the orb, coalescing around the room before taking on the figure of a tall man, wreathed in darkness. "My lord," Movarth intoned, bowing his head deeply, his hands still upon the orb. "My lord," Croel repeated.

"_My loyal servants,_" the shadow whispered, "_I see that you have brought something for me. The power contained within this artefact is blinding. The Dwemer claimed to be able to read these Scrolls with their lexicons, and yet they gathered only a fraction of its knowledge. What fools!_" the shadow hissed. Movarth shuddered at the sound. His Master was frightful in simply his voice. The power that his Master had was terrifying in its vastness. Croel was the only person that Movarth knew that could ever remain calm in their Master's presence.

"_Croel, Movarth, you have successfully carried out the first stage of the plan, as I knew you would. Now, I may absorb some of the knowledge held by this Scroll."_ The shadow then reared up towards the ceiling of the room before diving down upon the Scroll. It flared brightly, as the shadow attempted to smother it. Eventually though, the shadow retreated from the Scroll and it stopped flaring so brightly. The light had made Movarth's eyes water and yet he had not dared let go of the orb to protect them. Croel also showed signs of discomfort but also remained still. "_What I have discovered,_" the darkness rasped, "_is… sensational. I now know part of the Prophecy but the Scroll has also illuminated gaps in my knowledge. I must have two other Scrolls: the Blood Scroll and the Dragon Scroll. Auriel's Bow is required to complete the Tyranny of the Sun but the Scroll did not show me its location. Find the others Croel, and bring them to me. That is your task."_ Croel nodded slowly. "It will be done, my lord."

_"__Serana must be kept safe, Croel! Any harm that befalls her will be placed upon you a hundredfold. She must be kept alive and well if my plans are to succeed"_ the shadow continued. Croel kept his face expressionless, merely nodding to show his acceptance.

"_As for you Movarth, you are to take this potion." _The shadow appeared to concentrate, before raising its hand, and a black portal appeared, no bigger than an apple. When the portal vanished, a small, dark vial appeared in its place. Movarth reached for it and pocketed it.

"_For my plan to succeed, I must have control over the town of Morthal. To do this, I must control the leader, Jarl Idgrod. Place the contents of this vial into her mouth and we will have complete control over her. Then the next phase of the plan can begin._" Movarth nodded, before asking, "why do we not simply kill the Jarl and replace her with one of our followers? There are plenty of people willing to-" Movarth suddenly broke off as a choking sensation built up in his throat. Gasping as he felt his throat being crushed he tried to lift his hands off the orb to save himself, but found his hands glued into place.

_"__I need the Jarl alive, Movarth, because she has a unique gift, one that is very rare, so rare that even _I _do not possess it. She can see into the future! Glimpses, for sure, but still, it is a gift that could be used to our purposes. That is the answer. But I find your lack of faith in my plan worrying Movarth. DO YOU NEED TO BE REPLACED?" _the shadow yelled, tightening his grip over him. Movarth shook his head frantically and the pressure was released suddenly, and he gasped again. Croel watched the proceedings calmly.

"_Soon, everything will be in place for my return, after centuries of exile. Harkon and the Volkihar will be destroyed and Tamriel will be mine. No one will know what is coming before it is too late," _the shadow whispered ominously, before disappearing back into the orb. 

**I am so mean, introducing so many mysterious characters at once, aren't I? Croel has a master? Geiric needs Delphine? Vireni is attracted to Serana? There was so much to write, I know this chapter is way longer than usual but I needed you guys to see where this is headed. Please post reviews guys, they do help to keep me going and I would like to hear your thoughts. **


	9. Alva's Choice

Skulryr breathed in deeply, calming his mind, before he entered his Master's study. He had been in here many times before, being among his Master's most valued agents. "Skulryr, good you are here" his Master said, looking up from the massive map of Skyrim, with Solstheim next to it, and waving a hand for Skulryr to come closer. He did so, closing the door behind him. He looked at the two figures that always remained close to his Master. He shivered; his Master's guards were unnatural to him. "I have called you here," his Master continued, snapping Skulryr from his reverie, "because the next stage of the plan is about to begin." Skulryr nodded, he knew what he had to do.

"Go to Skyrim. Find the Dragonborn" his Master intoned.

"He must be watched."

Geiric sat back in his chair, the words of the vampire in front of him echoing in his head. The sheer scale of what he was up against daunted him. The parallels between his fight against Alduin and stopping the Volkihar were awfully similar. He had to stop a tyrannical overlord from destroying the world as foretold by an Elder Scroll. However it seemed that this time there were more complications. "You're telling me," Geiric remarked to Lokil, "that this Lord Harkon began attacking Skyrim on the basis of an _incomplete_ Prophecy?" Lokil shrugged. "Pretty much. Then again, Harkon has never been very stable. He was slightly manic thousands of years ago but when his wife betrayed him and ran off with his Scrolls and Serana, his daughter, he went completely over the edge. He became paranoid, controlling and even more vicious. He's been searching for Valerica, his wife, ever since, just so he can be the one to kill her."

"Wait a minute," Geiric interrupted, narrowing his eyes, "you said that Croel told Serana that Valerica was waiting for her in the castle."

Lokil rolled his eyes at the Dragonborn. "He was lying so that she would be eager to get back to the castle. Serana, while not the most deadly warrior in the world, knows a fair bit of magic taught to her by her mother. If she did not want to go to Castle Volkihar then Croel would have had to keep her unconscious the entire way to-" he broke off suddenly, his burning eyes focusing on a point behind Geiric's head. Geiric turned, following Lokil's gaze, till he saw that Lokil was staring at a mildly attractive Nord woman. "What are you doing?" Geiric said surreptitiously to Lokil. "That woman," he replied, "has been watching us from the moment I stepped into the inn. In turn I have been watching her and now I have a feeling that she is in fact a vampire herself."

"What?" Geiric said. "How come no one else in this place, including me, has noticed this?"

"I think that she is using some form of illusion spell. I can't be sure, but I do think that she is a vampire. Not one of the Volkihar," Lokil added, sneering, "but a lesser vampire, the kind that dwells in caves. The only reason I think that she is one of the undead is because I noticed small things about her, for one she is too still, and for another the movements that she does make as too graceful for the cattle… I mean mortals" Lokil added hastily, seeing Geiric's frown. Geiric then stood up and walked towards the bar, conversed for a moment with Jonna, the barmaid, before sitting back down next to Lokil. Lokil raised an eyebrow at him before saying, "so… what was that about?"

"I asked Jonna who that woman was. She said that her name was Alva and she is a resident of this town. Been here for years apparently. Jonna said that she has a few strange habits, such as flirting with everyone in the town, and taking walks late at night, but other than that she is a normal resident." Geiric replied.

"I still think that we should find out about her" Lokil said, his eyes flicking back to the woman's face. "I agree," said Geiric, "but we need to get her out into the open. Follow me" he said abruptly, before standing up and walking out of the inn. Lokil followed soon after and they both walked around the inn and walked off into the swamps. They kept walking before Geiric suddenly stopped and motioned for them to crouch behind a bush. He then cast the Detect Dead spell, his hands and eyes lighting up an eerie blue. "She's following us," Geiric said, dropping his hands, the blue light fading instantly. "She's behind that tall oak tree, to our right." Lokil turned his head and, as he was focusing on that spot, his superior night vision allowed him to see the woman, Alva, moving through the trees stealthily. "On the count of three, I will unleash a paralysis spell upon her. Then we will interrogate her as to why she has been spying on us," Geiric said, hands now glowing green. When Alva had moved out of the way of the tree, Geiric yelled "three" and he shot a ball of green light towards her. Alva did not even have time to scream. She merely toppled over stiffly as Geiric and Lokil moved towards her now paralysed figure. "Drag her to that clearing over there," Geiric said, moving off towards it. Lokil, cursing the Dragonborn under his breath for having chopped off his left hand, gripped the paralysed woman with his right and dragged her unceremoniously to the clearing. Once there, Geiric waved his hand over Alva and the paralysis spell broke. Immediately she jumped to her feet with unnatural speed, baring her now visible fangs. Unfortunately for her she had not known about Geiric's quick reflexes. As soon as she had jumped up Geiric had drawn back his fist, wreathed it in a purple ethereal gauntlet and punched her in the face. She sat back down again, groaning. Geiric waved his hand again and a long purple chain formed around Alva's feet and tied her to a tree nearby. Seeing this Lokil winced. "What?" Geiric said impatiently.

"Nothing, just that that was how Croel chained me up," Lokil answered. Geiric stared at him for a moment before turning back to the groaning vampire on the floor. "Why are you spying on us?" Geiric asked forcefully, glaring at Alva.

Alva scowled at him for a moment before saying, "Oh, go fu-"

This time Lokil reached down and punched her in her face and once again she fell down. Geiric looked at him questioningly and Lokil just smirked back. Alva spat out a leaf before saying, "You have to stop doing th-" and once again she was punched, this time by Geiric.

"Do not speak unless spoken to, bitch. Now tell me, why were you spying on us?"

"I will not tell. I am in the service of a higher power than you and I will not betray him" Alva said defiantly. Geiric smiled malevolently before bending down close to her ear and whispering, "you have no idea what I can do to you." He then cast the Soul Trap spell upon Alva, as he drew his sword from its sheath and pulled a black soul gem from his pocket. Lokil started forward about to ask what in Oblivion the Dragonborn was about to do, when Geiric stabbed Alva in the heart. Alva shrieked once before her soul was torn from her body and into the soul gem. "Lokil, I need you to watch over me. For while I will be incapacitated, but not for long, I will return soon," Geiric said before sitting down, hands glowing purple, and touched the soul gem. Instantly his body stiffened and froze. Lokil watched on, bewildered. Then he realised this was his chance. He pulled an elven dagger from his waist and was about to slit the Dragonborn's throat when the fire started up again in his veins. Screaming and yelling, he contorted on the ground for a while before the heat in his blood died down again. Sighing, thinking that it had been worth a try, he sat down next to the Dragonborn's inert form and watched the woods for danger.


	10. The Gathering of Princes

p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Alva wondered through the mist. She was ever so cold, even colder than when she had been a vampire. She did not know where she was or why she was walking but walk she did anyway. Then, she saw a light ahead of her. She eagerly walked towards it, anything to escape this sorrowful mist. However when she reached the source of the light, she shrieked in both shock and anger. It was the infernal Dragonborn, the one who had sent her to this place. She lunged at him but her body just passed through him. He smiled at her cruelly. "In this place I am the lord of everything. I can make this place worse than the depths of Coldharbor. Tell me what you know and I will set you free, otherwise your stay in this place will be eternal." The golden form of the Dragonborn still smiled at her. Alva sagged to the ground, defeated. She had no intention of staying in this place, nothing would be worse. She nodded her head at the Dragonborn, before launching into her tale./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""My Master is a vampire named Movarth. He has a lair in the form of a cave to the North of Morthal. At first he charged with me with the seduction of the town guard, and to turn them all into thralls. This way his coven, and the guard, would be able to overwhelm the town, giving them an entire capital full of people to feed from. However recently, Movarth had visitors. A group of Volkihar vampires came to the lair asking for shelter. They told him that they were trying to get back to Castle Volkihar, and that the Dragonborn was pursuing them. Movarth then charged me with a new mission. Wait in Morthal till you arrived. Try to find out your plans and then report back to him. That is why I was spying on you."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Geiric had to contain his gleefulness at the news. Finally he knew where his quarries were. Geiric knew that he could catch up with them now. He could barely contain his eagerness. He very much wanted to have a emchat/em with the vampire Croel. Geiric thanked Alva and waved his hand, dismissing her soul from the confines of the gem. He then vanished from the soul gem. When he opened his eyes again he was staring at Hjaalmarch's delightful swamps and Lokil's disgruntled face. "So," he murmured, "did you get what we need?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Oh yes," Geiric replied, "we are very close now Lokil. We will find them before the night is done!"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Serana woke up, eyes fluttering open. She saw the still sleeping form of Vireni and frowned a little to herself, remembering what had happened last night. Then her eyes drifted towards the table in front of her, upon which an Elder Scroll should be resting… Serana let out a piercing shriek as she saw the unmistakable absence of the Scroll. Vireni instantly awoke, almost tumbling out of her bed, the shock was so great. "What in Oblivion is going on, Serana?" Vireni yelled at her. Serana merely looked at her then pointed to the table. Vireni glanced down at it and then also let out a shriek. Both women jumped out of their beds, throwing on their clothes and armour as they did so, and ran out towards the central cavern. Serana pushed the other vampires in the tunnels out of her away, Vireni leaping over their bodies as they fell to the floor from Serana's shoves./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Once they had reached the cavern, Serana hissed in anger as they saw Croel and Movarth talking animatedly, the Elder Scroll clutched in Movarth's hands. Serana paced over to the two vampires, an ice spell forming in her left hand. Croel noticed her at the last moment, hastily throwing up a ward as, with a yell of fury, Serana let loose a barrage of ice spikes at the pair. All of the shards were deflected away from them, due to Croel's ward, so she pulled her elven dagger from her belt and ran at them. "Serana, stop this madness. Movarth is helping us!" Croel yelled angrily. Serana still carried on running at them, leaping onto the feasting table beside the two to gain a better vantage point for slicing Movarth's throat. Sighing warily, Croel jumped onto the table also, and in one fluid motion, picked up a silver plate from the table and threw it at Serana's head. She rolled under it, still getting closer to Movarth. However Croel ran towards her, using his foot to whip Serana's feet from under her. She fell forwards, unable to stop herself from falling off the edge of the table onto the floor. Croel jumped down, landing on top of her, straddled her and held an elven dagger to her chest. Serana, glaring up into his orange eyes, tried to find her own elven dagger but failed. Shocked, she realised that when Croel had tripped her up, he had stolen emher own/em dagger from her hands and was now threatening her with it. Serana and Croel both breathed heavily, Croel still straddling her waist. "Are you going to be calm now Serana? Will you actually emlisten/em to me now?" he hissed, glaring back at her. Contemptuously she nodded at him./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"A moment of silence passed, Movarth and Vireni merely watching on, when both Serana and Croel appeared to realise what position they were in. Certainly not a position that Lord Harkon's advisor should be in with Lord Harkon's daughter. Croel climbed off of her, and Serana got up off the floor. Wordlessly, Croel held out her elven dagger and she took it from him. Another awkward moment of silence passed before Serana said, "What is he doing with the Scroll? Last I checked it was in my room." Movarth glanced at Croel before replying, "Croel allowed me to use it because he knew that I have the resources to find the meaning of this Scroll." Serana's eyes widened as she realised the implications of what he was saying. "You mean that you have discovered more about the Prophecy?" Movarth nodded, before handing the Elder Scroll to Croel, who in turn handed it to Serana. "It reads that an ancient weapon, Auriel's Bow is required to end the Tyranny of the Sun. However it does not tell us the location of such a weapon. For that we need two other Elder Scrolls: the Scroll of Blood, and the Scroll of Dragons," Movarth said. Serana was in awe of what she heard. She herself did not think that blocking the sun from Nirn was a very good idea however she went along with it, as she did not want to tear her family apart over the Prophecy, as her mother had tried to do. Now that Valerica and Harkon were reconciled she did not want to do anything to jeopardise it. "So you see," Croel said, "there is still a long way to go yet, before your father's goal is completed. However the first thing that we need to do is get you back safely to Castle Volkihar where-" Croel was cut off abruptly as Beem-Ja ran into the hall hastily. "My lords, and lady, you must leave immediately."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Why, what in Oblivion is going on?" Movarth snapped at him./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Beem-Ja panted hastily before saying, "The Dragonborn… he is here!"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Standing on the ice that floated above the Sea of Ghosts to the north of Winterhold, 13 figures were all in a circle conversing. Within the group was a mixture of men and women, who all seemed to not want to be here and yet remained for an unknown reason. Suddenly a loud bark echoed around the ice where the people were talking and a dog trotted up towards the group. Once there one man, an elderly man dressed in blue mage robes, cleared his throat and the other people in the group quietened down. "A few members of this group already know why I have called you all here. Some of you may have guessed. However I will start off by saying why some of us are missing." The elderly man paused for a moment. The mortal races of Skyrim may have wondered why the man's eyes were closed but to the rest of the group it was perfectly normal. Indeed, most of the people in this group had their eyes closed, all of them did except the dog, who scratched his ear with his paws. "Sheogorath is not with us today because, honestly I do not value his opinion, and I feel that he would not have anything constructive to say." The rest of the group all nodded, with a few murmuring about their past experiences with this fickle Daedric Lord. "The only other person missing, as you all know, is Molag Bal. The reason for him not being here is a bit more complicated but I will go into that in a moment. For now let me just explain why I have called you all here." The elderly man paused again before speaking. "The time has come. Danger and death is threatening the realm of Nirn once more. The long awaited Enemy has returned, and this time he has prepared and planned far more than I had ever thought possible."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"At his words the rest of the group began to bustle and shout. The dog let out a mournful howl at his words. "SILENCE!" yelled a Breton woman. "Let Hermaeus Mora continue." The elderly man smiled at the woman politely before continuing. "Thank you very much Meridia." The Breton woman inclined her head. "Now, I have been waiting for this moment for hundreds of years, no, thousands of years. Some of you think that the Enemy is too weak for us to be concerned with. Who after can threaten a Daedric Prince?" The other members of the group all nodded in turn, apart from a silent Dunmer woman at the back of the group. "However I say to you, that whilst we ourselves may not be harmed, our influence on this world can, and will be if the Enemy succeeds, destroyed. That is something that I cannot accept. I have already spoken to some of you and I know that I have the support of at least five of you here, but I need to know that the rest of you support my plan."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""What is you plan, Mora?" a big, lumbering Nord man asked./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""Good question Dagon. My plan is to overrun Tamriel with our own mortal armies, destroying the remains of the Enemy's cult wherever we go. Then I suggest that we instate the rule of the Daedric Lords once and for all. I am willing to let each of you have a part of Tamriel to claim as your own, as long as you help and support the plan of course." The Breton woman stepped next to the elderly man. "I have already pledged my support. I am sure that many of you can guess why I have, considering the nature of the foe we face." Hermaeus Mora smiled at her. "I also have pledged my support." Another Breton man stepped up; he was known in Skyrim as Sam Guevenne, however here, he was referred to as Sanguine. "A world without parties is a world that I do not want to see come to pass." He slid in next to Meiridia, who wrinkled her nose slightly, disgusted with Sanguine's corruption./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""We also have declared ourselves for Mora's plan." Boethiah and Vaermina's hosts stood next to the elderly man. The dog barked once and walked over to Hermaeus Mora's side. "That leaves the rest of you to decide what you want to do. I feel that you should consider the benefits of my plan. The Enemy vanquished for good, our rule over the mortal world in place for the rest of time, there are no drawbacks," Hermaeus Mora continued. Five people moved forwards, joining the now majority of people standing next to Mora's host. "That leaves only you three," Mora said, smiling graciously at the last few people who had not joined his side. Mehrunes Dagon did not trust Mora, he never had. He was too clever, cunning and conniving for Dagon. However the plan did really seem to be perfect, and now that Alduin had been vanquished there was no threat to Nirn. Shrugging to himself, wondering if he would regret this later on, he walked over to join Mora. The last two people, both women, looked at each other. One of them, an Imperial dressed in an outfit that showed off a startling amount of flesh that the other Princes could not help but wonder if the host was going to die of hypothermia before she chose a side, spoke. "I have another question for you Mora. For all your clever speech, you have managed to glance over one problem that you have not answered yet." Mora looked at the Imperial, silently thinking that he should have known that he would not have been able to pull the rug over Nocturnal's eyes./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""What about Molag Bal? You know he will not take kindly to being left out of this. While I see your point about him having a more conflicted opinion about this problem, we should still inform him of our plan," the woman said. Mora licked his lips anxiously before replying, "I do not think that is the best idea. When we have destroyed our foe, then we can tell him. I do not want the Enemy being aware of our plan until we are ready to mobilise. Molag Bal endangers that. I have no problem with letting him have a part of Tamriel once we have finished, but I must insist that he not know about it until after." Nocturnal looked at him appraisingly for a moment before walking over to join his side. The last woman, the silent Dunmer, also followed the Imperial across to join Mora. He sighed, thinking that finally he had succeeded in getting the Princes to actually agree on something when a voice sounded in his head./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"emI wish to speak with you when the others are gone./em Cursing under his breath, he looked at the Dunmer woman who was staring off into the distance, pointedly ignoring him. "That is all then. This meeting is over." One by one all the hosts dissolved into ash as the power of the Princes left them. However four figures remained behind. The elderly man, the Dunmer woman, the Imperial woman, and the dog. Finally the Dunmer woman spoke. "Mora, these are the Princes who actually have a brain. I have spoken to each of them beforehand, yes we knew about this plan all along Mora, as I said we are the Princes who are intelligent enough to not fall for your slippery words," the woman said, glaring at him. Mora sighed. She was correct. Out of all the Princes he knew would give him the most trouble, Nocturnal, Clavicus Vile, and especially emAzura/em came right to the front of his mind. "Leaving Molag Bal out of this is very dangerous Mora," Azura began. The dog howled in agreement. "Oh stop that, Vile, you know how much it irritates me. The dog gave her a sly wink and shook its entire body before saying, "that's exactly why I do it, my dear Azura." The Dunmer woman glared at angrily at the dog for a moment before turning back to Hermaeus Mora./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;""If he finds out that we left him out of this he will declare war on us, especially you, Mora. Another thing that Nocturnal, Vile and I have qualms with is your brutal plan. Taking over Tamriel with an army? Do you not realise that the mortals will fight back, and possibly defeat us? This is not like you at all to have such an obvious method for stopping the Enemy. No, do not pretend otherwise Mora, we four here are very suspicious that you do not have some other, more cunning plan as well." The elderly man began to protest but the Dunmer woman cut through his speech. "Just be aware Mora that we are going to watch you very closely. Put one foot, or should I say emtentacle/em out of place and there will be… emconsequences/em." Azura finished, narrowing her eyes at Mora. Then Azura's and Nocturnal's host crumbled into ash as they left. The dog looked at the elderly man, barked and then ran off. Mora rolled his eyes and then also left. However this time, his host did not crumble into ash./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Septimus Signus awoke. He was lying on the ice near to the entrance of his cave. He wondered how he had gotten out here before picking himself up from the ground and walking back into the cave, mumbling to himself. Off in the distance, Barbas the dog looked at the old man walking back into the cave. Barbas cocked an ear; he thought he heard something close by, apart from the mutterings of the old man. Hearing nothing more he gave up trying to listen. Sighing to himself as he recalled the long journey back to his Master's shrine he ran off./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"Sheogorath crouched lower into the ground as he saw Clavicus Vile's dog stop and listen intently. When Barbas ran off he gave a little jig in his host's body in happiness. He had heard everything that the Daedric Princes had said and he found their little conspiracy very interesting. Very interesting indeed. He needed to act fast. There was only one person on Nirn who had the raw power to meddle with both the Enemy's and the Princes' plans. The Dragonborn. Sheogorath would send his host on a quest, yes he would. emWake up, my host. Wake up my faithful Cicero./em His host awoke with a start, and Cicero looked around him. He heard a voice in his head and it was not the voice of the Night Mother. emDo my bidding Cicero and you will be greatly rewarded. Find the Dragonborn and tell him what we have discovered/em. Cicero was a hardened killer and a psychopath and yet even he shivered at the malice and insanity of the voice, as it continued:/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"emIt's time to add a little madness to the world./em/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"strongThings are really beginning to take off now. Serana and Croel are closer than ever to discovering the words of the Prophecy. However Geiric has not been idle either. And what about the Daedric Princes and their sinister plans? Who is the Enemy? Do you think that I got the characterisation of the Daedric Princes right? Please review and tell me all your comments./strong/p 


	11. The Dawnguard Infiltrated

Skulryr grimaced slightly as the portal dumped him unceremoniously onto the grassy plains of the Reach. Skulryr was dressed in what he hoped passed for a normal Breton in Skyrim; a tunic, a plain brown hood and a similarly brown cloak. If there was one thing he knew about pretending to be a peasant was that brown was one of the only colours to go with. He brushed himself off, not that there was any need to as his Master's portal worked without any dirt forming, he just felt like that was what he should do, and began to cast a spell. He had to let his Master know that he had arrived safely and that he was ready to continue with the plan. Green light oozed from his fingertips and his magic formed a small orb in front of him. His Master's face appeared in the orb, as if staring at him through a green tinted window. "You arrived in Skyrim then?" his Master asked inquisitively. Skulryr smiled at his Master's face. He could not see his Master's expression due to his mask but he could sense the eagerness in his Master's voice. "Yes my lord, all is well. I will proceed to the location immediately." His Master nodded at his reply, before waving his hand and the orb disappeared. Skulryr was a bit taken aback at how abruptly his Master had dismissed him but he knew how busy his Master was. He was just about to head in the direction of Dragon's Bridge when he heard a snap of a twig to his left.

Sorine Jurard ducked behind a tree as she saw a strange mage turn around and glance in her direction. She cursed herself for stepping on that damned twig. She had been minding her own business, rifling through her rucksack to see where she had put a Centurion Dynamo Core when a green portal had opened into existence. Being a Breton, her magical capabilities were much greater than the average mortal (except for the Altmers) and she knew instantly that whoever had created that portal must have been a very powerful mage, much more powerful than she was. Seeing the man pass through with his dull brown clothes had disillusioned the idea of meeting a powerful, and hopefully friendly, fellow mage. However seeing him cast a scrying spell had reinforced the idea of the powerful mage type. She was going to go greet the man, when she heard him talking to his _Master_? Anyone with a Master was a person to avoid, in her opinion. She had then ducked behind the tree and stepped on that damned twig and now the man was striding towards her. She pulled out a sword and prepared a firebolt spell, anxiously waiting as the man drew ever closer.

Skulryr walked towards a tree in front of him; he thought that this was the source of the strange noise. Before he got to close he cast a spell for detecting the presence of anyone around him. He frowned when he saw the spell illuminate a crouched figure, holding a sword. He summoned a bound sword then he cast the Ebonyflesh spell and ran towards the tree.

Sorine, seeing the man running at her with a blade in his hands, snarled angrily at the unknown person before throwing her firebolt spell at his chest. The man rolled under the flames casting a thunderbolt spell at her, which narrowly missed and blasted a branch off of the next to her. She drew into her magicka reserves and held up a strong ward in front of her, and it was fortunate that she did so, as another Thunderbolt arced towards her, rebounding off her ward.

Skulryr was surprised that the woman was still standing. Evidently she was a competent mage, but he knew that there were not many people more advanced in the magical arts than he. Reaching into the depths of Oblivion he summoned a Frost Atronauch to help him. The lumbering Daedra charged at the woman who dropped her ward, threw a fireball straight into the atronauch's face and then sliced off one of its legs with her sword. The atronauch collapsed onto the ground before vanishing back to Oblivion. By this time however, he had reached the woman and slashed his glowing purple sword at her plain steel one. She raised her blade to defend and they clashed, their faces inches from each other.

Sorine was in trouble that she knew. He had superior strength to her, and while she was no pushover herself, she knew that she had to change her tactics to survive. She whirled away from him, getting a bit of distance between them before she stabbed at his unprotected knee. She was fast, very fast indeed; it had been one of the things that had so attracted Isran to the idea of her joining the Dawnguard. The man should be ending up with a severed leg after her sword connected. However before her eyes, the purple sword in the man's hands _elongated_ to swipe away her blade before it reached his legs.

Skulryr smiled at the shocked look on the woman's face. He had always been very fascinated with the Conjuration and Alteration schools of magic. Combining the two he had managed to work out how to manipulate the energy of the Daedric magic, transforming it into whatever he needed at the time, from a simple sword to a rope or even a bridge across rivers (as long as the distance was not too far). Elongating a sword was easy for him but it was something that had stumped many mages before him. Skulryr knew that he was both a scholar and a warrior at heart, and when his Master had succeeded in conquering Tamriel he would have access to books of magic that he had wanted for many years. When his sword knocked away the woman's steel one he transformed it into a gauntlet that formed around his wrist, before reaching back and punching the woman in her head.

Sorine saw the man's fist coming towards her but did not have fast enough reflexes to dodge out the way. The last thing she saw before darkness overtook her was the man's smiling face.

When the woman had fallen unconscious, he had originally intended to simply stab her in the heart and be done with it. However on closer inspection he had realised that the woman was wearing the armour of the Dawnguard. He and his Master had known about this group of vampire hunters while watching the Dragonborn with their scrying spells. His Master had said that they would be important in the coming war, and now Skulryr had one in his grasp. He summoned another green orb and his Master's face once more swam into view. "What is it now, Skulryr?" his Master asked, sounding slightly irritated.

"My lord, I have encountered one of the Dawnguard. I have subdued and was about to kill her when I realised how important she could be to our plans. Do I have your permission to magically gain control of her mind, and then send her to the Dawnguard? She could be an excellent spy for us," Skulryr explained to his Master, revealing his plan for his Master's approval. His Master was silent for a moment before nodding. "Yes… yes, this could be very fortunate indeed," he glanced at the woman lying on the floor, "for _us_ at least." Then he waved his hand once again and the orb vanished. Skulryr ground his teeth in anger; he was starting to get a little annoyed with his Master for his abrupt dismissals. Then he cleared his mind and entered into a trance state. The Daedra that he had to summon was not a common atronauch, but something far more potent. His hands glowed purple and a purple portal, the length greater than a Nord, appeared in the air. A Dremora Valkynaz clad in red and black Daedric armour stepped through the portal and onto the grass of the Reach. "How may I serve you, Master?" the Dremora grumbled at Skulryr. Sweating slightly with the effort, Skulryr cast another spell, one of his own devising, and the Dremora became wisp-like. Another movement of his hands, and the Valkynaz stepped into the body of the woman before him. As the Dremora stepped into the unconscious woman, Skulryr's mind became awash with the woman's memories. Gritting his teeth in concentration, the final spell bound the Valkynaz to the woman, and he ordered the Dremora to act as the woman would have. "Go to the Dawnguard," Skulryr began, panting with the effort of his spell, "spy on them, find out exactly who they are and what they do. I give you the power to mentally inform me of your findings, wherever you are in Skyrim. Do not let anyone find out about your presence in the woman." The woman's head nodded and she, whom he now knew to be named Sorine, stood up, but Skulryr knew that it was the Dremora who actually was in control. Sorine then picked up her bag, turned on her heel and began making her way back to the Rift; to Fort Dawnguard. Skulryr released the last vestiges of the spell, sighing in relief as he did so. The task of binding the Dremora to Sorine had been enormous, but he had succeeded. It was not for nothing that he was his Master's most competent mage.

Minutes later, an average, ordinary peasant dressed in a tunic, a brown hood and a brown cloak made his way north to Dragon Bridge, where he hoped he would find what he was looking for.

**Finally, Skulryr is back into the mix. I wanted to get this character into Skyrim as soon as possible, as I feel that he and his Master needed to get into this story. I feel bad for Sorine but she will definitely feature in the later story. Hope you all liked this chapter and please review! I would like to hear your thoughts.**


	12. The Hunt Continues

Croel, Serana, Movarth and Vireni stared at Beem-Ja for what felt like an eternity. Then Croel snapped out of suddenly, turning to Movarth hastily. "Is there a back door we can get out of here from?" Croel demanded of Movarth. Movarth turned to face Croel and nodded his head, before running towards the back of the cavern. "Follow me," he yelled behind him. Croel wrenched Serana, almost of her feet, in his haste to encourage her forwards. Serana pulled her hand from his, glaring at him, before running in front of him after Movarth, pulling Vireni along with her. The group followed Movarth to the edge of the cavern, where he pressed a button hidden on the side of a bookcase resting near the wall. The bookcase swung open, showing the group a long, dark tunnel stretching ahead. Movarth entered first, casting a Candlelight spell as he went. Serana and Vireni quickly followed, and Croel brought up the rear. Before Croel entered the tunnel, he cast a powerful spell of Illusion, masking both the button on the bookcase, and the entire thing with it. Now it just looked like another piece of wall. Croel smiled to himself, before fleeing after the other three vampires.

_"__Yol… Toor… Shul_" Geiric bellowed at the surge of oncoming vampires. Three of them disintegrated from the fire that burst from his mouth. The other two managed to throw up a strong ward just before the flames reached them. Once the fire had died down, they drew their swords, only for one to be hit by a lightning strike from Geiric, and the last one was impaled in the throat by an ice spike, cast by Lokil. Geiric nodded at Lokil in thanks before rushing off into the caves. "Come on Lokil, we are so close. I can sense the Scroll's presence. It is so close to where we are at the moment." Lokil followed dutifully, sighing as he knew exactly who would be accompanying that Scroll, the one vampire he never wanted to see again, certainly not as a foe. _Croel_.

Serana gasped as a stitch tore into her sides. She kept running though, pushing past the pain. She had never encountered any Dragonborn's before and she had not been awake long enough to find out exactly who the present Dragonborn was and what he was like. However from the way that everyone was reacting to his presence in the lair, her mind conjured up images of a fierce Nord warrior wielding a blade of fire. The Elder Scroll danced on her back, bouncing up and down with her movements. Suddenly she heard Croel curse. "What is it?" she asked, anxious that he may have seen the Dragonborn behind them.

"We left our thralls behind. Now it's going to be much harder to find a source of blood for our journey," Croel replied. Serana had always been amazed at how some men always focused on trivial things that would happen in the future; Croel being one, her father being another. Why could they not just think about the problems of the present, such as being chased by a powerful Dragonborn for one!

Lokil and Geiric ran into a huge cavern which contained a feasting table, chairs and six vampires waiting for them, clutching ebony swords, their hands glowing red. An Argonian vampire stepped up. "I cannot allow you to pass. Movarth has given me orders to detain and kill you, and I will follow them to the letter. We vampires are not afraid of you, and I for one think that-"

"Oh for fuck's sake, we don't have time for this!" Geiric yelled angrily. "_Tiid… Klo… Ul!"_ he Shouted. Lokil blinked, and when he opened his eyes again the vampires had all been decapitated and their bodies fell to the floor, all at the same time. Lokil shrieked in shock and saw Geiric at the edge of the cavern wall, looking at a bit of the wall suspiciously. "What… what was that?" Lokil asked his voice still a little high-pitched.

"That was the Slow Time Shout. It allows me to slow the speed at which time normally travels. To you, I would just be moving extremely fast," Geiric answered him disinterestedly. Geiric could sense a powerful magic around this piece of wall. Whoever had cast it was a very powerful mage, but he had been training with Drevis Neloren in the College of Winterhold, and the Dragonborn was no novice of magic himself. He cast a counter-spell and a bookcase appeared before them. Feeling around the edges of the bookcase he found a button imbedded in one of the sides. Pressing it, and then springing backwards in case it was a trap, the bookcase opened up, revealing a long tunnel. Smiling, Geiric expanded his magical senses. _Yes… the Elder Scroll definitely passed this way_, he thought to himself.

Movarth burst out of the tunnel into the swamps of Hjaalmarch, the other vampires quickly following him. "This is where I leave you, I must stay here in Morthal," Movarth said hastily to the Volkihar vampires. Croel nodded and began walking off, but Serana stopped him. "Movarth, what are you doing? If you stay here the Dragonborn will kill you!" Serana beseeched him. Movarth smiled at her kindness but replied, "I must stay here, I still have work left to do in Morthal. Anyway, the Dragonborn will not kill me; I won't even let him see me. Goodbye Serana, I hope you find the happiness. Come visit me again someday. We certainly have a lot to discuss." Movarth then turned and ran off into the night. Serana was surprised at his words. Flattered obviously at his goodwill towards her, but his words sounded strangely cryptic. What did they have to discuss? Croel was also staring after the retreating figure of Movarth, frowning slightly. Then he turned back to Serana, and she could not help it, she flinched. His orange eyes were burning with rage; she had never seen Croel this angry before. "The Dragonborn is on our tail, we have to move, now!" Croel snarled. He ran off, north-west, in the direction of Dragon Bridge. Serana and Vireni hastily followed.

The Penitus Oculatus agent looked at the fleeing vampires with disgust as he watched from the top of a nearby hill. Commander Maro had sent him to the area after hearing rumours of a master vampire setting up headquarters in the area. Now though everything had changed. The man was a middle-aged Imperial and he had been doing his job well for over twenty years. He had been in Skyrim long enough to be able to recognise a Volkihar vampire when he saw one. He had to get to Dragon Bridge immediately, and from the direction that these vampires were travelling, he needed to get there fast, before the Volkihars reached the town. Fortunately the headquarters of the Penitus Oculatus were located in Dragon Bridge. Once he had reached the town, Commander Maro would be more than willing to send out a patrol to capture these vampires; the Penitus Oculatus had been plagued by requests from the citizens of Solitude to end the vampire menace, and with the Volkihars in custody, they may be able to do just that. The agent stood up and climbed on top of his horse, before galloping it towards Dragon Bridge, eager to get to the town as fast as possible.

Skulryr looked up at the vast bridge that spanned across the Karth River, noting the dragon's skull placed at the beginning of the bridge. He had to admit that it was an extraordinary piece of architecture; opposed to the awe-inspiring bridge was a small, drab collection of buildings that passed in this Hold as a town. He frowned at the town before walking over the bridge and towards the inn: The Four Shields Inn. As he went by he noticed a small building with the flag of the Penitus Oculatus hanging outside. Skulryr hissed in anger; the Penitus Oculatus complicated matters for his plan. It would be much harder for his idea to work, but not impossible. He proceeded into the Four Shields Inn, smiling at the cheerful barmaid within the inn. Little did she know that her life span would now, with his arrival in her hometown, be measured in days, and not years.

Geiric and Lokil ran out of the cave into the swamps of Hjaalmarch. Geiric instantly swivelled on the spot, the spell for detecting the dead already cast. Cursing loudly, he gave up his efforts, as the only thing lighting up was Lokil. "There's no one around, they must have run off, the cowards," Geiric said angrily. He knew where his quarry were heading, after all he could still sense the Elder Scroll's presence, but it still annoyed him that even after all his careful planning, the vampires had still escaped him. Turning to Lokil he handed him a letter that he had written back in Morthal. The letter was sealed with red wax, engraved with the symbol of a Dragon crossed with a staff. "Lokil, this is where we part ways," Geiric said to the vampire. Lokil gaped in shock. Of all the things that he thought the Dragonborn would say to him that was not one of them. Hope began to rise in his chest as he imagined his time as the Dragonborn's servant, no _slave_, to be over. However the hope died as he saw the look on the Dragoborn's face. "You must go to Morthal, collect Frost, and ride him north-west, to Winterhold. I am running short of time and I need people I can trust that also understand the arcane. If this Lord Harkon really intends to use the Elder Scrolls then I need other mages to help me stop him. Therefore," Geiric continued, looking Lokil dead in the eye, "go to the mages of the College of Winterhold and request there help. Specifically look for Onmund, J'zargo and Brelyna Maryon." Lokil looked to the scroll in his hands and the serious look on the Dragonborn's face. He knew that these people must have a friendly relationship with the Dragonborn but they did not know Lokil, and he did not know what these people thought of vampires. "Why would they trust me? How will I get them to follow your orders?" Lokil asked.

Geiric smiled. "They will know that you came from me, after all, the letter you bear contains the seal of the Dragonborn…" Lokil nodded and began to turn away towards Morthal.

"And the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold," Geiric continued at Lokil's retreating figure.

**It is so agonising. Geiric gets so close to catching Croel and Serana up but never manages to quite reach them. However he is much closer now and you can expect for him to encounter the vampires very soon. The Penitus Oculatus will also get involved and Skulryr is still out there, waiting for Geiric. All these characters will come together soon. Please tell me your thoughts and ideas about the story and please review!**


	13. The Darkness Gathers

Malkoran walked towards the Statue of Meridia, lazily swinging the sword Dawnbreaker as he did so. He had been posted at Kilkreath Ruins for months, having been ordered to desecrate Meridia's temple by his Master. Malkoran was a powerful necromancer in his own right, perhaps the most powerful living necromancer in all of Skyrim, and yet he knew that his power was but a drop in the ocean to what his Master possessed. Ever since he had become one of his Master's three Generals his magical prowess had been elevated to heights he had previously thought unobtainable. While Movarth had never even tried to expand his magical abilities, and Croel had always said that he was "too busy fulfilling their Master's wishes and actually doing something useful to waste his time practising", Malkoran had spent years trying to become the deadly power that he was now.

Motioning for a few of his shades to stand watch for any other signs of life, Malkoran walked towards the Statue of Meridia, grinning widely as he did so. Meiridia and her followers had always been a pain to Malkoran, even before he had joined his Master's side. Her followers were dedicated to destroying the undead, and the necromancer's who raised them, wherever they could, and Malkoran had found many of his plans being usurped due to Meridia's influence. Now though, the tables were turned. He had spent the last few months meticulously eradicating every member of Meridia's cult, and every shrine to her, all over Skyrim. Now he had finally tracked down the last, and most important, stronghold of Meridia in the region. He had effortlessly slaughtered the supplicants inside, maliciously turning them into the undead, just to spite Meridia. However finding Dawnbreaker had been both surprising and delightful. He knew his Master would be _very_ pleased.

Malkoran approached the Statue, still grinning, when a voice resounded in his head.

"_You are an abomination! You will not live to see your Master's plans fulfilled, that I can assure you_" the ethereal voice roared. Malkoran merely smiled. He knew that the voice belonged to Meridia, and while she was definitely furious, he also detected a sense of fear in her voice. Without any influence in Skyrim, she was essentially destroyed within this part of Tamriel. For sure she had other followers in other places in Tamriel, but Skyrim had always been the place that she had been most needed, and therefore more people had prayed to her here. Because Skyrim was full of vampires, Draugr and necromancers, the Lady of Infinite Energies had had a stronger foothold in Skyrim more than the other Daedric Princes. But after the purging of her shrines, she would no longer have any way of stopping the undead. And there would be lots more now, if his Master succeeded. _No,_ he corrected himself, _when _his succeeded. No one could stop what was coming, especially without Meridia. Swinging Dawnbreaker, he stepped up to the Statue, magical lightning coursing through the sword. _This is going to be good,_ Malkoran thought malevolently to himself, before he swung the sword into the statue, breaking it in half.

A scream issued from the shrine, and Malkoran was blown backwards by a wave of blue light. His shades that he had set to watch over him disintegrated under the sheer power of the Daedric Prince's final act. Malkoran gingerly picked himself back up, wincing slightly. He may have cracked a couple of ribs when he had been thrown from the statue. However when he saw the broken statue, he smiled once again. He had done it. Meridia was no longer an obstacle to himself, or his Master. He gathered his power and a dark orb appeared in his hands. "Master, it is done. Meridia will not be in our way anymore." Malkoran said eagerly.

"_Excellent, you have done well. All my plans are coming into fruition… is that Dawnbreaker?" _his master asked, shadowy tendrils licking the edges of the portal. Malkoran glanced down at the beautiful, golden, jewelled sword tied to his waist. The light of the sword was still radiant, even with Meridia's influence diminished. "Indeed it is my lord," Malkoran said proudly, "I found it within the ruins of Kilkreath. I strove hard to find it but it was worth every-"

"_Yes, yes. Just come back to my abode and give me the sword as soon as you can,_" the shadow interrupted. "_With that sword and Auriel's Bow, I will have the weapons I need to destroy my enemies, and rule over Tamriel. I must have it! Bring it to me immediately."_ Malkoran bowed deeply, before waving his hand and the dark orb vanished. He sighed, looking down at Dawnbreaker glinting. The power within the Daedric artefact was palpable. However his Master's commands came first; while Malkoran would have liked to keep the sword for himself, he values his life more. He knew the terrible retribution that would come if he disobeyed his Master. He summoned a skeletal horse and climbed on, before riding away from the desecrated temple.

The Caller resided in her study, reading a few magical tomes she had recently acquired. Her little group of mages and necromancers were always so boring to her. They were necessary of course, to keep her and her experiments safe, but she wish they weren't. Their constant squabbling and fighting made her weary. Ever since she had left the College of Winterhold to practise darker, forbidden magical arts she had gathered the group around her so that she could work with other talented mages to strive towards magical breakthroughs in necromancy. However she had been very disappointed with the people who had joined her. Half of them were just brutes who had a slight proficiency with magic and merely wanted a place to find out better ways to hurt people; and the other half were mages on the run who needed a safe place to stay. She herself had thought that she was going to create a new magic school, a kind of anti-College of Winterhold. Instead she was stuck with this rabble. Occasionally she just had to find a quiet place in which to read her books and focus on her magic. Other times, the reason she needed solitude, was because her dark Master had summoned her.

The Caller had only been at Fellglow Keep for less than a year when she had discovered Him. She had been studying necromancy and the Oblivion planes when she stumbled upon a dark orb lying in a room that she had yet to renovate. Filled with curiosity, she had spent weeks studying it before she managed to figure out how to activate it. Once she had though, she knew that she had discovered something huge, something dark, something _dangerous_. However it was too late. A voice had spoken to her, commanded her to obey his will, and since then she had been following all the orders that came from her orb. The Caller had been rewarded for her efforts and Fellglow Keep had been transformed into a true stronghold for necromancers everywhere to congregate to, however she still managed to end up with the useless, half-wits that currently inhabited this keep.

The Caller suddenly sprang from her chair, as a voice spoke to her in her mind. Only one word: _Come_. She knew who it was and she walked swiftly to her private chambers, striding towards a table next to a single chair. Upon the table rested a dark orb, the orb she had found years ago. She sat down upon the chair, composed herself, and then rested both her hands upon the orb. A shadow sprang from the orb and the Caller bowed her head respectfully. "_My loyal servant, keeper of my stronghold. I have news, excellent news,_" the shadow whispered to her. She remained silent and waited for her Master to continue. "_General Malkoran has succeeded in destroying Meiridia's temple. Her influence upon Skyrim has gone. Malkoran has also found Dawnbreaker, and he must bring it to me. Therefore your task is to make the portal to my domain ready for the General when he arrives. I do not want to hear of any delays. I must have the sword and so it shall be,_" the shadow said. The Caller was stunned. One of the three Generals was making his way here? She had lots to do in order to get ready. She would not want General Malkoran to think that she was letting the side down. She would whip her lackeys into shape well before he arrived. "Of course my lord. Whatever is required of me, it shall be done," she replied breathlessly. The shadow disappeared back into the orb and the Caller removed her hands from its surface.

Within Wolfskull Cave three necromancers sat around a dark orb, a skull and a black soul gem. All the necromancers had their hands on the dark orb, and together they moved their lips in the words of the spell required to summon their Master. The lead necromancer, a young Imperial woman, finished the incantation and a shadow sprang from the orb. "My lord, we have done as you asked and we are ready to begin," the woman said. Her voice quivered slightly as she spoke. She was deathly afraid of the shadow in front of her, as any sane person would be. "_Excellent, my servants. Begin the summons immediately. Now that Meridia's power is diminished, this process should be much less taxing for you,_" the shadow replied, roiling around the cave as it did so. The necromancers all nodded, and stood up, before they began to speak the words of the spell. The shadow watched them all, eagerly waiting for the spell to be completed.

Blood began to leak from the eyes and noses of the necromancers from the strain of the spell. After an hour had passed, the skull and the soul gem on the table began to glow a dark purple. One of the necromancers screamed out in agony before his soul was sucked into the gem, his body turning to ash. Another necromancer shrieked and again his soul was pulled into the black soul gem, his body disintegrating. The final necromancer, the woman, also screamed and her soul was pulled into the gem, however this time her body did not turn to ash. Instead, the body was decapitated and the skull on the table flew into the empty space, fusing with the neck of the corpse. Skin grew upon the skull, taking the form of a stern Imperial woman's face. Brown hair sprung from the scalp and grew down past the shoulders. Finally eyes, ears, a nose and all the features of a face were created. The shadow watched all of this and laughed at the necromancers' folly. They truly thought they would be rewarded. Then, the soul gem on the table flew towards the woman's chest, imbedding itself in her heart. Purple energy lit up the room as the souls of the necromancers were used to power the process, being consumed as they did so. The woman, now fully formed, opened her cold blue eyes and looked around herself, confused for a moment as to where she was. Then she saw the shadow, and immediately she threw herself to the floor of the cave, in submission. "_Rise,_" the shadow said graciously, and the woman picked herself back up. "_We have much to discuss. Now that you are back from the dead, due to my power, I expect you to be loyal to me for all time._" The woman simply nodded, knowing exactly who was speaking to her. "_Excellent. We have much work to do yet. However I will take this time to welcome you back to Nirn… my dear Potema. The world has been missing a Septim for a while. It is time for you to become the Wolf Queen once again._"

Movarth creeped into Morthal in the dead of night. He cast the Detect Life spell, and saw that two guards were guarding the entrance to Highmoon Hall. Movarth knew that he could kill them easily; the problem was killing them quietly. He changed his mind about killing them, instead he cast a magelight spell in front of them. The guards drew their swords and followed the light. They thought that it may have been a spell cast by an enemy mage and they followed it to see if they could find the mage in question. Movarth laughed at their stupidity and slipped past them, opening the door to the hall and stepped inside. Instantly he cast a spell of invisibility; he did not think anyone would be awake at this time, but it was better to be safe than sorry. The fire in the pit was still burning merrily as Movarth crept towards Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone's room, watching her chest rise and fall steadily. _Good, she's asleep_ Movarth thought, and then silently walked to her bed. From within his pocket, he withdrew a black vial. He poured the contents of the vial into one of the Jarl's ears before creeping back out of the hall. The guards had not yet returned; still chasing the tiny ball of light. Movarth ran out of Morthal, back to his lair. Once inside, he almost cried out in shock and sorrow. Every person that had resided in the cave with him was dead. Their blood was splattered on the walls and there were many piles of ash to signify where another of his brethren had fallen. He calmed himself down. The Dragonborn would be dead when his Master had taken over Tamriel. _Speaking of which…_

Movarth entered the secret room where had and Croel had communed with his Master but a short while ago. Once again he placed his hands on the dark orb in front of him and gathered his magical energy to summon his Master. The black shadow that was his Master sprang out of the orb immediately, filling the small room with the smell of death. Movarth bowed his head before saying, "my lord it is done. I have poured the contents of the vial into Jarl Ravencrone while she was sleeping. She was not made aware of my presence."

"_I know Movarth, I know. I can already feel the power contained in that old woman's body. She has had so many visions over her years and I will see any that she sees now. With the power of foresight at my disposal, what can I not prepare for?_" the shadow asked rhetorically.

"The visions are neither common nor are they always accurate from what I have heard, my lord. I fail to see how this helps us much," Movarth replied. The shadow hissed in anger and the room's temperature dropped several degrees.

"_You will see the effects of my plans soon enough Movarth. You and the rest of Tamriel. The day of reckoning is creeping ever closer, and I will rule all," _the shadow begin to sink back into the orb, but nor before it said,

_"__Of that future I do not need visions to know that it will come to pass. Nothing will prevent my return, and the destruction of the Empire. Nothing at all._"

**I am sorry that it has taken so long for me to update but I hope you like this chapter. I know, I know there is no Serana, Croel or Geiric in this chapter but I wanted to show you the vast scale upon which the shadow's plans has affected Skyrim. Please review and tell me what you think. How can Geiric possibly stop the shadow? Is he just too powerful?**


	14. The Dragon and the Vampire

Serana ran. She did not jog. She did not trot gently. She sprinted. Ever since waking up from her thousands of years slumber she had heard tales of the deadly Dragonborn. Shouting his enemies to dust, slaughtering droves of people at a time, killing dragons with simply his voice. Admittedly, those stories had come from Croel, who hated the Dragonborn, and Vireni, who appeared to be very afraid of him. Serana had never met him but from the way that even Croel was running away from the Dragonborn, it made her never want to meet him, especially as his enemy. "Where… are we… going?" Serana asked between pants of breath. She had never run for this long in her life, as a vampire or before, as a human. Vireni was panting even more than she was; evidently life in the castle had not prepared her for this physical ordeal.

"Dragon Bridge. We can steal horses from a Penitus Oculatus outpost there. From the town we head to Icewater Jetty and back to your father," Croel replied, not slowing down as he said so.

"And my mother," Serana added, frowning slightly.

"Of course, and your mother," Croel said, not even bothering to turn round. Serana stared at him, suspicious.

"Croel, darling, how is it exactly that my father and mother reconciled. Now that I think about it, it seems highly unlikely that they would ever forgive each other," Serana asked, ducking a tree branch that whistled towards her face.

"Serana," Croel replied, grimacing, "can we discuss this when we are not being chased by a vampire-killing maniac?" Serana shrugged to herself. She supposed it was fair. Also, she wasn't sure how much she could concentrate while running and trying to ignore a painful stitch that had built up in her sides.

Geiric knew that a normal human could not catch up to vampires on foot. However he was not a normal human. Whenever he got the chance he would Shout, "_Wuld… Nah… Kest!_" and he would be hurled forwards. This way, he still may not be gaining on the vampires, but he would not lose them either. Geiric had gone through too much; joining the Dawnguard, discovering Dimhollow Crypt, putting up with Lokil, to give up now. While Geiric sprinted and Shouted his way after the vampires, he consolidated what he knew about them. He knew that they carried an Elder Scroll, and he also knew that one of the vampires he was chasing after was the daughter if the leader of the Volkihar clan. He also knew that if he did not stop them from reaching Castle Volihar the Sun would be destroyed. _The vampires must be heading to Dragon Bridge_, Geiric reasoned. Armed with this knowledge he skirted slightly south of his current trajectory. He did not want to run into the Forsworn that inhabited Dragon Bridge Overlook; Geiric had cleared the camp of Forsworn many a time but the Forsworn always seemed to come creeping back.

Serana cursed vilely as a Breton man dressed in shabby, dirty clothes swung a sword that appeared to be made out of bone, towards her chest. Sighing, Serana stepped to one side, allowing the man to move past her, before pulling her elven dagger from its sheath and slitting the man's throat. Blood sprayed across the grass but Serana was not even tempted to feed off it; the very idea of drinking the man's blood repulsed her. Croel let loose two massive thunderbolts that each struck down one of the oddly dressed people. An arrow hissed past her ear and Serana ducked hastily. She readied an ice spike in her hand before releasing it at the archer. The woman holding the bow also ducked out the way, however Vireni ran past Serana, pulling a steel sword from her belt, and threw it the woman. The sword went through the woman's head and imbedded itself in the tree behind the archer. Vireni smiled breathlessly at Serana, before running after her sword. The vampires had nearly finished off all the foes in the camp when a massive man stepped out from a tent wielding an equally massive broadsword. He was wearing a fearsome fur mask and nothing much else, apart from a pair of shorts. On closer inspection, the man had a gaping hole on the left side of his chest where his heart should be. Instead, there lay a bit of briar. How the man was even alive, Serana had no idea.

Vireni swallowed fearfully, Croel stepped back towards Serana who whistled appreciatively through her teeth. The man's muscles rippled across his chest and the man's biceps were bigger than some men's heads. "Croel, if you had some of those muscles, you and I would be a lot friendlier," Serana whispered seductively in Croel's ear, trailing her hand up and down his back. Swiftly, Croel turned, whacking her hand away from his body. He was about to growl at her when he changed his mind. The man began to sprint towards them and still Croel did not turn around. "Oh, Serana," he said huskily, stepping in close to her, "the things that we would get up to," he continued placing one hand on her waist and another on her ass, "if only you were a little more intelligent," he finished, smiling sweetly at her. Then he snatched her dagger from her belt, turned around and hurled the dagger at the gigantic man. It became imbedded in the man's forehead and he sank to the ground, stone dead. Serana gasped, both from the shock of the man's unexpected demise, and from the left over feeling from where Croel's hand had been pressed up against her body. Strange emotions surged within her; she both wanted to slap Croel for touching her in such an inappropriate way, she wanted to hurl some clever retort at him to wipe the smirk off his face, but she also wanted to do something… else. Serana wasn't even sure what she wanted to do to Croel and she was not happy about it. "Come on," Croel said, picking up Serana's dagger and wiping it on the grass to get the man's blood off it. He handed it back to Serana before running off. "We're still being chased you know."

Serana stopped suddenly. She did not notice the thundering river gushing below her. She did not observe the architectural magnificence that was the bridge leading to the town. Instead she watched as Dragon Bridge burned before her. Vireni gasped and skidded to a halt as she felt the heat of the fire that was claiming the village. Men, women and children were running around screaming as their homes and livelihood burned to the ground. Soldiers in unfamiliar armour were running around, some trying to pour water in buckets from the river over the flames, others, who had some magical ability, were casting frost spells to exterminate the blaze. The vampires dared not get closer to the blaze; being undead they were less resilient to fire than other denizens of Skyrim. However, amidst all the chaos, a lone soldier in the strange garments noticed them. He shouted to call attention, and a small legion of troops rushed over to him. They stood at the other end of the bridge, the fire still blazing behind them. "They're vampires… they must have done it!" the soldier who noticed them yelled out. Other citizens of Dragon Bridge noticed them as well.

"The vampires have been attacking our towns for ages, now they are burning us to the ground!" a man dressed in peasant robes called out.

"Get the two vampires! I want them alive though, for questioning," the leader of the soldiers called out. Serana was confused. _Two_ vampires? She glanced around and found that Croel was nowhere to be seen. He had abandoned them. _Coward_, Serana thought angrily. Then she readied herself to fight. However, she did not notice the archer who had dipped his arrow in poison. Nor did she notice him nock it at her. What she did notice was the arrow imbedding itself in her arm, and the rushing darkness that came over her.

Croel watched from the shadows, wreathed in an invisibility spell, as Serana was knocked unconscious from an arrow. He saw Vireni scream in anger at seeing her fallen companion, and then charging the soldiers he recognised as members of the Penitus Oculatus. She was cut down by the same archer who had felled Serana before she even made it across the bridge. Croel observed the soldiers picking up the two women and dragging them to their horses. Due to his superior hearing, he overheard the soldiers conferring before they agreed to take the vampires to Castle Dour, in Solitude. _The base of the Imperial power in Skyrim_, Croel thought furiously. He had failed Lord Harkon. How on Nirn was he going to get Serana and the Elder Scroll to Harkon now, when they were both going to be locked up in the most secure building in Skyrim?

Geiric Shouted, "_Wuld… Nah… Kest!_" for the final time as he came upon Dragon Bridge. He gasped out loud; the buildings were burning. People were milling about all over the place in a panic. Geiric rushed over the bridge into the centre of the town. Quickly, he drew upon his vast magical powers and conjured a blizzard. Controlling it carefully, he sent it roaming over all the houses in the area, putting out each fire due to its intense coldness. Seeing that the fire was quenched the crowd quietened down, before cheering at the sight of Geiric. "Dragonborn, Dragonborn!" they chanted at him, raising their fists high into the air in gratitude. He nodded at them graciously, before turning to a resident of Dragon Bridge.

"What happened here? Why were the buildings on fire?" Geiric questioned.

"We have no idea, sir," the man replied anxiously, "one moment we were sipping ale in the local inn, next moment we had to evacuate people from the area."

"Dragonborn, we know how the town was caught on fire."

Geiric turned to see an agent of the Penitus Oculatus standing there, smiling smugly. "We found two vampires creeping outside the town. We reasoned it was them who set fire to Dragon Bridge. We captured them and we've sent them off to Castle Dour to be questioned." Geiric froze. He had a sinking feeling in his chest. "Were any of these vampires carrying an Elder Scroll by any chance?" Geiric asked the agent.

"Why yes, now that you mention it, one of them was. A woman and quite an attractive woman to. If she weren't a vampire and a prisoner, well let's just say…" the agent tailed off, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Geiric smiled, but internally he was disgusted. _What an irritating man_, Geiric thought. "It is imperative that I speak with the vampires immediately. I have been following the vampires for a while now, as I am trying to stop a vampire clan from doing something terrible, and I must find out what they know," Geiric said to the agent. The man simply shrugged his soldiers before replying, "I'm afraid I cannot do that. You see, this is official Imperial business, and if I recall correctly, you decided to remain neutral in this civil war we are having. Therefore you have no claims to anything. There is absolutely no way that you will be allowed to see the vampires. They are in Imperial custody and they will remain in Imperial custody." The man then sauntered off, striding around pompously. Geiric clenched his fists in anger and considered killing the man with a well-aimed fireball. However before he began to form the spell in his mind, a man dressed in brown peasant robes came running up to him. "Dragonborn, I wish to express my gratitude. My name is Rollof, and I live in this town," the man said breathlessly. He was tall and quite handsome, and he had an aura about him that Geiric thought meant that he must be a leader of some kind. "Well, hello there, Rollof," Geiric replied politely, "I must say that putting out the fire did not take too much energy and that your gratitude is, while appreciated, not an obligation for you."

"Oh, but it is," Rollof replied, eyes widening, "you see Dragonborn, I overheard you and that Penitus Oculatus agent talking. You seem to be in need of help. I wish to offer my services as a warrior to you. Before you reply, know this," Rollof then looked Geiric dead in the eye before continuing. "These vampires attacked, and nearly destroyed, my home. You say that you are on a mission to stop more of these vampires from doing a terrible thing. I wish to have vengeance, and I will get it, one way or another." Geirc stared at Rollof for a long while, considering all his options. He looked at the earnest but serious man before him, before replying, "As you wish. Meet me at the north end of Dragon Bridge at midnight. We leave for Solitude then." Geiric then turned and walked off to the inn, already beginning to formulate a plan. Rollof grinned, before running away to pack a bag.

At midnight, Geiric and Rollof began the long walk to Solitude. Geiric was surprised at how engaging and interesting Rollof was. He was extremely intelligent as well as being level-headed which made for an excellent combination. On the road they swapped stories about their life, before, after walking for about an hour, Geiric held up his hand. "I do not wish to alarm you, but someone has been following us ever since we left Dragon Bridge." Rollof nodded silently, before withdrawing a steel sword from his belt. Geiric readied a thunderbolt spell in both hands before turning on the spot, eyes searching for his elusive stalker. "Come out," Geiric said simply. There was no need to draw this out. There was a shift in the darkness in the road ahead of them, and then a shape formed out of the darkness. The man was wearing a strange, ancient piece of armour. He was tall, a Nord, and had a sword in his belt. What struck Geiric most about the man, and had him preparing his more powerful spells for were the man's burning orange eyes.

"Geiric the Dragonborn. You wish to free Serana from her captors. As do I. It seems we share a common goal. Care to work together, and make this easier on everyone?" Croel said, eyes fixed firmly on the Dragonborn's stormy grey ones, knowing that both Serana's and Skyrim's fate depended on what the Dragonborn did next.

**Hey guys, this story has reached 1,000 views! And so, I wanted to make a chapter with a nice cliff-hanger (yay)! Hope you are all enjoying the story so far. FINALLY, Geiric and Croel have found each other. (Only took like fourteen chapters and over 20,000 words for that to happen!) Serana and Vireni captured? Croel and Geiric teaming up? What is going to happen next? Please review and tell me what you think. The story should definitely start heating up now. **


	15. Harkon joins the Hunt

Onmund slowed his breathing and calmed his mind. He reached out with his mind to the lump of iron ore that was lying on the ground in front of him. He gathered his magicka in one hand and touched the metal. There was a flash of green light and when Onmund opened his eyes he found that the iron had been transmuted into gold. He smiled, satisfied with his work. He had always found himself to be better at the Alteration school of magic than his fellow apprenticed mages. Each had their own skill they were best at; J'zargo was the most skilled with Destruction, Brelyna Maryon was better at Conjuration magic. Of course J'zargo claimed that he was the best at all magic but Onmund thought he meant that jokingly. At least, he _hoped_ that J'zargo was only joking. Surely no one could be that arrogant. Onmund stopped daydreaming and focused back on his work, in his little area of the Hall of the Elements. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tolfdir stopping by Brelyna to help her with the Transmutation spell. Onmund smiled to himself. Tolfdir was one of the most kind and yet powerful mages that Onmund had ever met. He always took his time to talk to all his apprentices and make sure they understood everything about the school of Alteration. Onmund had quickly excelled in this particular school of magic. He was absolutely useless with Illusion magic, he dabbled slightly in Conjuration, and he was alright at Destruction and Restoration, but it was Alteration where he really shone. Onmund was about to move onto the next stage of the lesson when Faralda burst into the Hall of the Elements with a cloaked and hooded figure following her. "Tolfdir, I need you and apprentices Maryon, Onmund and J'zargo to follow me immediately," Faralda said, her mouth in a grim line, before turning on her heel and walking out of the hall. Tolfdir stood still for a moment, trying to take in the situation before hurriedly motioning for the three mages to follow him. He turned to the rest of the class and told them to continue with their studies before walking out of the hall. Onmund looked around at his fellow mages to see if they knew anything about what had just happened. The others just shook their heads, none of them knowing what was going on. They followed Faralda and the mysterious stranger to a small hatch next to the entrance of the Hall of the Elements. Faralda waved her hand and the hatch flew open, revealing a ladder that descended into a frozen dungeon. Onmund shivered slightly, he knew where the hatch led; the Midden.

When they had all gathered in the first cavern within the Midden, Faralda turned and stopped. She immediately conjured up glowing purple chains and wrapped them around the stranger. He shouted in shock before the chains wrapped around his mouth, forbidding him from speaking or moving. She looked at Tolfdir before saying, "Tolfdir, can you make sure that no one can hear what we are going to say, I feel that this is not something we want to be spread about the College." Tolfdir nodded, before raising his hands. A silvery-blue light emanated from his fingertips, and spread around the small group, before it briefly intensified and then vanished. "Thank you Tolfdir," Faralda said gratefully, before turning to the three nervous apprentices. "This man tried to enter the College. When I challenged him as to why he said that the Arch-Mage had given him a letter to give to the three of you." The apprentices looked at each other in shock. Onmund was confused; why would Geiric wan to deliver a message to them? They had all been friends with the Dragonborn; they had studied and practised magic together for many years. That kind of friendship forms a strong bond between people. However since he had become Arch-Mage he had grown more distant, more focused on his own work. And then he had suddenly left, running off to the Rift, to seek a group of vampire hunters. But that had been weeks ago and no one had received any communication from him since.

"I thought," Faralda continued, "that he was a courier, however, I sensed there was something wrong about him. So I cast a multitude of spells to see if he was really who he said he was. One of the spells I cast was the Detect Life spell," at this point she broke off and glared at the bound stranger who was struggling weakly. "He's not alive at all. He's a vampire," she spat venomously. "I was not sure how powerful he was and I feared that he was going to endanger the College, so I brought him here under the pretence that I was following his requests. I brought you four here with me, because I wanted Tolfdir to help me capture him if it was necessary and I brought you three because he had asked for you _by name_." The three mages shuddered; how did a vampire know their name? None of the mages had ever even encountered one before, let alone tell one of them their names. Tolfdir snorted suddenly, breaking the apprentices from their reverie. "Faralda, did you actually consider that perhaps he was telling the truth?" he asked her. Faralda looked uncomfortable and shifted on the spot. She glanced briefly at the chained vampire before turning back to Tolfdir. "I did consider it, but I felt that the safety of our students comes first, Master Wizard," she replied primly. Tolfdir shook his head, exasperated, before turning to the vampire who was still struggling. "I am going to remove these chains now. If you are who you say you are than you have nothing to fear. However," Tolfdir added, eyes now as hard as flint, "try and harm any of the people in this room and I will incinerate you." Tolfdir then waved his hand and the chains disappeared. The vampire stood up slowly, took off his hood, revealing his burning orange eyes, and began to speak.

Lokil really hated those magical chains. Everywhere he went they always seemed to end up wrapped around him. He had been riding Frost hard from Morthal to Winterhold, trying to get to Winterhold as fast he could. On the way he had thought about going very slowly, just to mess with the Dragonborn's plans. But then he had realised that the Dragonborn had not ordered him to do anything else after he had delivered the letter. Therefore as soon as he had completed this task he was free! He had been delighted and he had sped Frost as fast he could go, eager to get this ordeal done with.

He glared at the mages before removing his hood. The Khajiit in the corner let out a small gasp as he gazed upon those orange eyes. Lokil sighed silently, before saying, "the Dragonborn tasked me with delivering this letter to mages named Onmund, Brelyna Maryon and J'zargo. In the case that they were not present I was to deliver it to any of the other mages in this institute. However now that they are before me, I will give them the letter." Lokil then reached into his robes and withdrew the letter from his pocket. He then handed it to the old mage before walking back to the ladder, eager to get out of the College. "Not so fast, vampire," the Altmer woman said, flames appearing in her hands. "Until we have read the letter you are not going anywhere." Lokil sighed, before walking back to the group of mages. He could wait for a few more minutes.

Onmund took the letter from the vampire; Brelyna and J'zargo were too unnerved by the vampire to take it. He studied the seal upon the letter; it was Geiric's alright, it had the symbol of a dragon crossed with a staff. Onmund smiled, he knew the staff on the seal was meant to represent the Staff of Magnus. Onmund carefully opened the letter breaking the seal. He opened the parchment and saw only a single symbol etched into the paper. Normal citizens of Skyrim would not know what it meant; indeed that is probably why Geiric had composed the letter this way, so that if the letter was stolen no one would be able to read it. However the mages had studied magical symbols with Tolfdir. Onmund pressed his finger to the symbol and whispered the incantation. The parchment glowed blue before a voice issued out from the letter; Geiric's voice.

"_To Onmund, J'zargo and Brelyna Maryon,_

_My friends, I hope this letter finds you well and working hard at your studies. I presume that Tolfidir has been keeping a tight lid on things in the College whilst I have been away."_

Tolfdir smiled at Geiric's words and muttered something about no one being able to keep order in the College, not even himself.

"_As you know,_" the letter continued, "_I have been away in the Rift for many weeks, after joining a group of vampire hunters to stop the vicious attacks on the Holds. However I have discovered something that could mean the end of whatever order and peace in Tamriel that there is at the moment. A special clan of vampires, called the Volkihar, led by a vampire named Lord Harkon, are trying to block out the Sun. They reside in a castle on island off the west coast of Solitude. Anyway, the Volkihar believe that a Prophecy contained within the Elder Scrolls will tell them how to do this. With the aid of Lokil, the vampire whom delivered this message to you, I have been chasing after a small group of vampires who are delivering an Elder Scroll to Lord Harkon. Within this group of vampires is Harkon's missing daughter, Serana, who has been lost for thousands of years. I am still chasing them now, and I cannot give up the chase yet so I have sent Lokil in my stead to deliver this message to you. I have a request to make of you three,_" at this point Onmund looked at his fellow two mages in anxiety and determination. He could see those same emotions reflected back at him. They could hardly believe what they were hearing and it terrified them at the scale of the vampire's plans. However if the Dragonborn needed them to do something then they would.

"_I have since fallen out with the Dawnguard, the vampire hunters, over the prejudice and hatred. They are not heroes trying to protect Skyrim from the threat. They are only hateful, ignorant or simply afraid of what they are facing to truly try and make a difference. Instead they cower behind their fort and hunt anything that disagrees with them, saying that they are protecting Skyrim when what they are really is just a group of murderers. I have seen first-hand their ruthlessness and I do not want to be a part of that anymore. However I do need people I can rely on to help me combat this menace. Therefore I ask you, my friends, to journey to Sky Haven Temple and meet with the Blades. I need you to form a combative force ready to act when called upon. Onmund knows the way there. You must find Delphine or Esbern there with the rest of the fighters and tell them that I have sent you. I have already sent a message to the Blades telling them of my orders. They will assist you. I ask of you to find out anything you can about the Elder Scrolls. With my trust I am letting you know where I have placed the Dragon Scroll; it is located within a small chest within the Arcanaeum, Urag will be able to point you in the right direction. He will be able to unlock it for you. Take the Elder Scroll with you to Sky Haven Temple; I have a feeling that the Dragon Scroll will become important. If Harkon is as power-hungry as Lokil claims then he will not stop with just one Elder Scroll, he will want more. Guard it with your life, do not let the vampires get their hands on it, or Tamriel is doomed."_

The voice then cut off. Onmund stared at the other people in the room in shock. The task that Geiric had left for them was enormous; however looking around at the determined look on Brelyna Maryon's face, and the swishing of J'zargo's tail as his he bared his fangs in a grin, Onmund knew that they would do it. They had to.

"_By the way,_" the voice issued suddenly once again. Onmund was so surprised he nearly dropped the letter.

"_Lokil if you are listening, know that your tasks are not yet done. You are to accompany the Onmund, J'zargo and Brelyna Maryon to Sky Haven Temple. Once you are there you are to inform the Blades of everything you know about the Volkihar. You are to follow the orders of any of the three mages that are going with you; consider them to speak with my voice. I am not done with you yet,"_ Geiric's voice then cut off, but not before a faint chuckle echoed in the room. The symbol stopped glowing and the letter crumbled to ash.

Lord Harkon was a patient man. He had to be; he had been waiting for thousands of years for his daughter to return to the castle. He had been waiting for more information about the Tyranny of the Sun for even longer. There were two vampires in his court that had been waiting just as long as he had: Vingalmo and Orthjolf. They had managed to find a way to pass the time though, by fighting and arguing with each other for millennia, whereas he had not found a way of passing the time. Unless brooding in his throne counted; in which case he excelled at that. Years upon years, centuries upon centuries, he had been waiting for the day when he would be able to walk upon Skyrim and no longer fear the wrath of the sun. The day had not yet come though. Harkon clenched his fist and hissed slightly between his teeth. It was barely audible and yet both Vingalmo and Orthjolf looked up at him from their positions seated next to him at the high table. He waved his hand irritably to signal that they should continue with their meal; for Vingalmo, a luscious Redguard woman, for Orthjolf, an Altmer. Orthjolf had always made a point of feasting upon Altmers whenever Vingalmo was near to him, just to infuriate him. Vingalmo in turn always pointedly ignored him, not even flinching at the ominous sucking and crunching sounds coming from the Nord vampire. It angered Harkon how childish his 'close' advisors could be, however he never mentioned his anger. To lower himself to their level by telling them to stop arguing would not be possible for him. No, he would let them continue. After all, they had been doing it for thousands of years; it would be strange for them not to.

Just over five years ago, when Salonia had encountered the man with the strange mask and robes who had told them that Serana was entombed within Dimhollow Crypt, Castle Volkihar had been a frenzy of activity. Every day, Orthjolf and Fura Bloodmouth could be seen training up a new batch of Volkihar vampires, readying them for attacking the cattle's cities. The vampires who ventured out of the castle to attack the Holds rarely lasted long but Harkon did not care. They had been capturing lots of mortals, training them, and then sending them out to attack the people of Skyrim. They were not true members of his court, even if they carried the Volkihar blood. No, they were merely pawns to be played, not true members of the clan. He had tasked Vingalmo and Feran Sadri with discovering items of magical power that could be used to help them in their fight against the cattle. The results had been small, but worth it. They had recovered two amulets: the Amulet of Bats and the Amulet of the Gargoyle. Harkon had been delighted when they had been recovered; though he did not let anyone see that he was delighted of course. Since then Vingalmo and Feran had said that they were close to finding something even more powerful but Harkon had yet to see it.

When he had sent Lokil and his protégée, whatever her name was, off to Dimhollow Crypt he had, for one of the few times in his life, been impatient for results. Even when he had ordered for his clan to attack the cities, he had not felt anything. But then, when he had sent Lokil off to that cave, he had been so eager because he thought he was so close to recovering his lost Elder Scroll. With that Elder Scroll he would be able to find out more about the Prophecy, may even be told how to complete it. However when Lokil had still not returned, after _five years_, he had been angry. Very angry. He had decided to send Croel, his most powerful servant, to Dimhollow Crypt because he thought that Croel would be able to handle whatever challenges that were thrown at him. He had thought that sending Croel would ensure that the Elder Scroll would be returned safely to him. However it had been months and his Elder Scroll was still not in his hands! Croel had sent one last message, saying that they were making their way through Morthal towards Dragon Bridge but there had been no further communication. He assumed that Croel must have failed, and that was not acceptable. Lord Harkon had had enough. He rose from his throne, throwing the goblet of blood in his hands at Ronthil's head. The vampire shrieked as his skull caved inwards from the force of the blow. He collapsed on the floor, sobbing quietly. The rest of the court became immediately silent, all eyes focused on Harkon.

"My court," Harkon began, smiling maliciously at the quavering faces before him; only Vingalmo, Orthjolf and Garan Marethi kept their cool, "I have been very disappointed in these recent years." At this point he broke off and made his way slowly towards the centre tables where the rest of his clan were standing, their eyes following his every move. "I have been waiting for many a year now, for our dear compatriot, Lokil, to return to the fold with my Elder Scroll… and my daughter. However it has taken too long!" At this point Lord Harkon picked up a limp female Nord thrall, who struggled weakly, before turning to face his court and ripping her in half. Blood splattered across their faces; most licked it off without a fuss, however Garan sighed quietly before pulling out a piece of cloth from his pocket and dabbing off the blood. "I WANT MY SCROLL BACK!" Harkon yelled at the court, lunging at Modhna, picking her up with one hand and throwing her against a wall. "AND YET NONE OF YOU APPEAR TO BE SKILLED ENOUGH TO GET IT FOR ME!" he screamed angrily, this time raking his nails along the high table leaving deep scratches in the wood.

Lord Harkon suddenly stopped, and there was an inaudible gasp from his court. They were all waiting for his next words, wondering who next would be the one to be injured. "Vingalmo, Orthjolf, Garan, follow me to my private chambers. At this point, Harkon suddenly paced towards the back of the castle, up the stairs and into his rooms. The three other vampires followed nervously, though none of them let the other ones know how fearful they actually were.

"I have made a decision," Harkon said, when the vampires had reached his rooms. Harkon's voice much more even and his movements were calm, the three senior members of Harkon's court noticed with relief. "Garan Marethi will rule this court in my absence. Vingalmo, Orthjolf, you are coming with me," Garan nodded in agreement as Vingalmo and Orthjolf began to protest loudly, both for once in agreement, something that had not happened in thousands of years.

"SILENCE!" Harkon yelled, and a hush fell. "We are going to find my Elder Scroll and my daughter, and we are going to bring them back to Castle Volkihar. "If we run into Croel and Lokil on the way, they are going to be doing a lot of explaining as to why my property WAS NOT RETURNED TO ME!" Harkon suddenly roared. Vingalmo and Orthjolf nodded acceptingly, both unwilling but they knew that to openly disobey their lord was death. "Good, then we leave at midnight. Garan, do not let the other members of the court know I am missing. Just tell the court that Vingalmo, Orthjolf and I are in my chambers planning the Volkihar's next move."

"Of course, my lord," Garan said simply, bowing his head.

Three figures wreathed in darkness left Castle Volkihar in the dead of night. Harkon snarled as he ran past his inept watchman. _I am going to have to kill him when I return_, Harkon thought to himself, before casting a spell that would allow him to run on water. He kept running across the Sea of Ghosts heading towards Dragon Bridge. From there he would find out what happened to his Elder Scroll, and he would send to Oblivion anyone who tried to deprive him of it. Vingalmo also cast the spell for water-walking but hesitated when he saw Orthjolf's confused face. He laughed out loud at the Nord vampire's predicament. "Wish you had more magical power now, Orthjolf?" Vingalmo asked sweetly.

"Shut up you damn elf and cast whatever spell you need to on me. Lord Harkon will be annoyed if you do not help me now," Orthjolf replied, gritting his teeth. Vingalmo, still grinning, cast the spell upon Orthjolf. "It looks like you needed an Altmer's assistance. Oh, this must hurt so much for you to ask for help." Orthjolf looked away in shame before running after Harkon, Vingalmo following him, his laughter echoing across the freezing water.

One of the members of Harkon's court walked silently to the chapel, in which was contained the shrine to Molag Bal, their unholy Creator. He closed the doors to the chapel behind him, making sure no one had seen where he had gone. He passed the shrine, nodding to it. He did not share Lord Harkon's fanaticism about Molag Bal but it could not hurt to show his respect at least. He moved to the wall behind the shrine. He moved his hands up and down the wall until he found a loose brick. He pushed the brick and the wall slid inwards, revealing a secret room, with a chair, a table upon which rested a small black orb. The vampire placed both his hands on the orb and bowed his head, both out of respect and fear. The room filled with darkness as a shadow reached up out of the orb and coalesced around the room. "My lord, Harkon has left the castle. What is your command?" the vampire said, not looking at the ominous darkness floating above his head.

"Enact the next stage of the plan," the shadow whispered, roiling around the room. "When Harkon returns, I want the castle to be mine. He will never know what has hit him until it is too late."

**This chapter was my longest one yet, and a lot happened in it. I know that what happens with Harkon is not what happens in the game but I do not want my story to just be a retelling of the DLC so I changed lots. I hope you liked it though. Poor Lokil, he thought that Geiric (and me) was done with him; well he is sadly mistaken. Onmund, J'zargo, and Brelyna Maryon will become more prominent characters now. Please review and tell me what you think. Hope you are all enjoying the story still. **


	16. Shadow over Solitude

"_Fus… Ro… Dah!_"

Geiric Shouted at the vampire; he expected the vampire to be blown backwards off his feet, his body crumpling under the force of the Shout. What he did not expect was for the vampire to jump _over_ his Shout. Geiric was so surprised that he did not even fire his thunderbolts at the charging man. Rollof, howeverm swung into action, running towards the vampire, sword held high, yelling a Nordic war cry. The unknown man pulled out his own sword and prepared to swing it at Rollof's neck. Rollof expertly moved his own sword to try and block it, showing a level of skill that Geiric was surprised at. However the vampire seemed to know this was coming, fluidly hooking his foot around Rollof's legs. Rollof fell to the ground and the vampire used the hilt of his sword to knock him unconscious. Then the vampire faced Geiric once again, his teeth bared in a gruesome snarl.

The Dragonborn swung into action, unleashing two deadly thunderbolts at his body. Croel sighed and conjured up a bound shield; the lightning strikes were deflected off the ethereal shield and arced into a few trees nearby. _So, it is going to be a fight_, Croel thought.

_Excellent._

The dog shivered in the freezing wind that bit harshly into his fur coat. It sighed and paced around the mounds of ice that made up the Sea if Ghosts. It walked towards a small hatch in the ice and barked down the shaft. The dog heard the sound of cursing, followed by bangs and clatters, before the shaft opened up and an old man dressed in blue mage robes stepped out onto the ice, eyes curiously closed.

"I did not expect you to be so early," the man said, stretching his neck tiredly.

"I was very eager to get this meeting done with, Mora. Do you know the risk that I am taking by just being here?" the dog replied, eyes glaring at the man's closed ones.

"Yes I understand the danger of this meeting, Clavicus, but we have to modify our plans," Hermaeus Mora replied just as heatedly.

"You heard then," Clavicus Vile said. He sat down and transformed into a powerfully built man with a horned mask on his face.

"I am the Daedric Prince of Knowledge, Vile, of course I heard," Hermaeus Mora snapped at the man.

"Pity you did not _know_ what was going to happen to your staunchest ally then, isn't it."

The elderly man began to pace up and down at a speed that he had never possessed before in his life, not even when he was a young man. "What happened to Meridia, was… unexpected. I did not realise that the Enemy would be so bold as to outright attack her. Do the other Princes know?"

"I have gone round to all their realms, telling them that it was just a rogue necromancer who had a vendetta against Meridia for being the Prince of Life and Infinite Energies. However I told Nocturnal and Azura the truth; I am meant to be working with them to stop you, remember?" the man accounted.

Hermaeus Mora wished that Clavicus Vile had remained as a dog; it was easier to read someone if you could see their face. All he could see was an expressionless mask and it worried him. Vile never transformed into his human appearance unless he was very serious.

"That is fine; no doubt Nocturnal and Azura already knew about the circumstances of Meridia's diminishing power."

"How is she anyway, I haven't been able to access her realm," Clavicus Vile asked inquisitively.

"Not good at all," Mora surmised, a hint of emotion creeping into his voice. "She has refused to see anyone but me; she does not want people to know how low she has gotten."

"Why has she allowed only you to see her?" Vile was slightly envious of Hermaeus Mora's closeness with Meridia. They had never been friends before so why would only he be allowed to see her?

"Because," Hermaeus Mora began, ceasing his relentless pacing, "I am the only one she trusts to end the Enemy completely, not to mess it up like Molag Bal did in the Second Era."

Clavicus Vile smiled, his thoughts cast back to that tumultuous era. There had been much shifting of power back then; and he had been there to see it all, to gently push nations into ruin, and letting others rise.

"What about the Dragonborn? Have you factored in a champion of the Divines into your plans?" Vile sniped at Mora, hoping to get him angry.

"Of course I have," Hermaeus Mora snapped back at him, "just because you did not realise that he would meddle in our affairs does not mean that I had not prepared extensively."

"Good, good" Clavicus Vile murmured slowly, before transforming swiftly back into a dog, and snapped at the old man's arm, drawing blood. Mora cried out, mostly in rage, before muttering a spell. The dog flew backwards in the air, forced away by the spell. The dog growled before reverting back to a humanoid shape.

"What was that?" Mora shouted, healing his bloodied arm, glaring at the expressionless mask.

"That," Vile hissed slowly, "was for not telling me about a certain vampire." Hermaeus Mora froze his movements suddenly careful.

"What are you talking about?" he replied quietly.

"Do not play stupid with me, Prince of _Knowledge_!" Vile yelled, "Why did you not tell me that the vampire Croel was hunting the Elder Scrolls?"

Geiric slashed his ebony sword at the vampire's own. Their swords rebounded off each other's before clashing together again. The vampire jumped straight into the air, kicked Geiric in the chest and flipped back onto the ground. Geiric was thrown off his feet but managed to let loose a thunderbolt that struck the vampire as he landed.

Croel hissed in anger as the magic surged in his body, causing him intense amount of pain. He snarled and cast a spell for draining the life from the Dragonborn's body. The Dragonbron rolled out of the way of the spell, before sending another bolt at Croel's body. Croel rolled under it, and ran towards the Dragonborn once again. Croel knew that if he stayed away from the Dragonborn, he would eventually be hit again by his thunderbolts. He needed to end this fight quickly.

Geiric prepared to fight in close quarters, pulling out his sword. He watched the vampire run at him, fangs bared. Geiric was impressed at the vampire's fighting skills; no other vampire he had faced had lasted this long against him. He calmed his mind and was about to unleash the Fire Breath Shout when the vampire suddenly ran to the side of him, ignoring him completely. Geiric was unable to comprehend what the vampire was doing until he saw him aiming for Rollof. The vampire placed the edge of the sword next to Rollof's neck and Geiric paused. He could not do anything without the vampire killing Rollof first.

_Damn it_, Geiric thought.

"Now, before you do something that you might regret, Clavicus, hear me out," Hermaeus Mora said, hands held out in a placating fashion. The masked form of Clavicus Vile roared and hurled himself at the frail old man. A green shield instantly formed around Septimus Signus' body; Clavicus Vile collided with it and rebounded back off it, landing on the freezing ice. Hermaeus Mora reached down and picked up the Prince of Power by the scruff of his neck. He cast a paralysis spell and then threw him further across the ice sheets. Clavicus Vile broke the paralysis spell once he had stopped sliding across the ice and glared back at the old man, who raised his hands, once again, trying to calm the Daedric Prince down. "Clavicus, will you listen to reason! Please get it through that polished mask of yours that I am doing everything in my power to make my plan succeed," Hermaeus Mora said hastily. "How can you be sure that Croel won't wreck everything; your plans and my efforts to aid them? Do you recall who he was, who he is?" Clavicus Vile spat at Hermaeus Mora.

"Of course I do," Mora replied tersely.

"Then how can you be sure that your plan will succeed?"

"I guess," Hermaeus Mora began, a wry grin stretching across his face, "you'll just have to trust me."

Clavicus laughed harshly, before transforming back into Barbas. The dog looked at the old man before him before saying, "don't fuck this up Mora." Then the dog raced off through the ice sheets, and disappeared from view. The old man sighed and retreated back to his icy lair.

Geiric went through as many different situations in his mind as to how he could defeat the vampire before him. Unfortunately they all ended up with Rollof being killed by the vampire before he had even taken a step. The vampire looked at him, sighed, and then, incongruously said, "now that I have your attention I wish to ask, simply, for us to work together. I have already explained," at this point the vampire glared, almost _sulkily_ at Geiric, "that I simply want to work with you to free my comrade Serana from imprisonment within Castle Dour. Now that I have _your_ comrade's life in my hands, I hope you act with a bit more civility this time around," the vampire added, lightly tutting, as if Geiric's actions disappointed him. Geiric was enraged by this vampire's smug attitude. Swallowing his rage, due to Rollof's predicament, he said simply, "Who are you?"

Croel smiled at the Dragonborn's question, before contemplating the many responses he could give. Finally he settled with something that would surely disconcert the man; the truth. Well, at least some of it. "My name's Croel," he began, "and I am a Volkihar vampire. I am helping Serana get back to her father. He dearly wishes her to be returned to her."

Geiric raised an eyebrow. Not only was this one of Lord Harkon's servants, this was also the man who had written that note for him. This was the vampire who hated all Dragonborn's for some unknown reason. Instantly, Geiric knew two things. One, he could never trust this vampire. And two, he had to accept his offer. He needed to know more about this… Croel, and Harkon's plans for the Elder Scrolls, and the only way he could get that information was if he spent more time with Croel. "As long as you promise to free Rollof unharmed, then I will help you get Serana back," Geiric said confidently, looking the vampire straight in his glowing eyes.

Croel was more than surprised that the Dragonborn had agreed so quickly to help him. _He's planning something_ he thought, narrowing his eyes at the man before him. _Oh well, at least he will be mildly entertaining as he tries to thwart me before I drain him dry._

Moonlight shone onto the Blue Palace, illuminating the halls and rooms through the windows. A guard stood at the main entrance to the palace, stolidly remaining at his vigil, peering into the darkness attentively. The woman wrapped in the dark cloak smiled to herself. It was going to be too easy.

Jarl Elisif sat on the throne in the main hall of the Blue Palace, barely keeping both eyes open. It was very late in the evening and yet Falk Firebeard continued to babble on about the increased vampire attacks in the city and how many extra patrols of guards were needed to maintain the peace. Falk was a dear man and a loyal steward, but he did tend to babble on a bit when an important topic came up. Elisif knew that the increasing vampire attacks were a problem, but was it a problem for right _now_, nearing midnight. Elisif cleared her throat and Falk fell silent. "It seems to me that we have plenty of able-bodied warriors that are able to patrol the streets aside from our town guard," Elisif said directly to Falk, ignoring the assorted noblemen who wished to gain more favour from her by pretending to care about the good of Solitude. "Please explain, my lady," Falk added questioningly. Jarl Elisif stood up and walked from where the throne was situated on a dais to Falk Firebeard. "The Dawnguard are capable vampire hunters, knowledgeable too; I think we can let them patrol the city during the night, it will give our guardsmen a rest and they can be fresh for watching the streets during the day." Falk looked down at the ledger he always carried, opening it, and scribbled a few notes in it with a hastily acquired pen. "Very good, my Jarl, I will see this plan taken into effect by the morrow." Elisif nodded patiently in turn, before retiring to her bedchambers. She wanted to get a long sleep, to get enough energy to face the next day. Ever since Torygg had died she found that she needed longer sleeps to get her spirits up.

The woman dressed in black made her way to the guard standing outside the door. Before he could ask what she was doing outside the Blue Palace at this time of night, the woman pulled an ebony dagger from her belt and ran it across the guard's throat. The guard crumpled and the woman slipped inside. As she did so, she cast a spell of invisibility. Usually the Blue Palace's magical defences would null any unauthorised magic being used; however she had been given a small amount of power to allow her to cast this spell from her Master. The woman slipped passed the yawing guards and made her way deeper into the palace, passing a middle aged man carrying a ledger walking the opposite way to her. Finally she reached her goal and slipped into the chamber.

Jarl Elisif suddenly woke with a start. She thought she had heard something. Elisif looked around her room, noticing the moonlight spilling through a gap between the door and the wall. _Strange, I am sure I closed it_ she thought before shrugging and walking over to the door to shut it. Making her way back to her bed, she suddenly felt a hand grasp her shoulder. Turning quickly, she found a grinning woman dressed in black standing behind her. Before she could scream, the woman hissed an incantation and Elisif fell to the floor, unconscious.

The woman looked down at the crumpled Jarl, before rolling her eyes in exasperation and dragging Elisif onto her bed. She then removed Elisif's clothes until the woman was naked. She slipped out of her own clothes before straddling the naked Jarl. She held the dagger over the Jarl's chest, before striking straight down towards the heart. Carving a rough circle around the heart, she pulled it from the woman's chest and placed it on a table beside the bed. She cast an Alteration spell to keep the heart cool and fresh. Then the woman reached to her own chest, paused for a moment, knowing the agony that was coming next, before carving a similar circle around her own chest. Barely containing a shrill scream, the woman pulled out what was within her body.

But it was not a heart.

Instead, a black-purple, soul gem was removed and then hurriedly placed in Jarl Elisif's chest, where her heart used to reside. Knowing that she only had moments before her body crumbled to ash, the woman began to murmur the words to a powerful necromantic spell. The gaping hole in Elisif's chest healed instantly, new flesh growing to join the wound, the soul gem nestling under the skin. Then the woman placed her hand on Elisif's chest and murmured the final words of the spell. The woman's eyes unfocused then turned black momentarily, before the woman's body crumbled to ash, leaving only the dead body of Elisif on the bed.

Elisif opened her eyes. She blinked, blinked again then stood up, rummaging through the ashes on the bed. Finding a dark orb, she placed it on the table next to her heart and bowed her head. A shadow burst from the orb and coalesced around the room.

"My lord it is done. I am in control of Elisif's body," the woman said, both pride and fear etched in her voice.

"_Good, very good, my loyal servant. Now, with you at the helm, I control the capital city of Skyrim. Ready yourself my dear, for what is to come next. You have secured a great victory this day…_

_Potema."_

**Hi guys, sorry for not updating sooner but I have had A LOT of exams. However now that they are over I will (hopefully) be updating much quicker. Hope you like this chapter, some interesting things will be happening in the city of Solitude. Please review and tell me what you think!**


	17. Three Mages and a Vampire

Skulryr opened his eyes and slowly walked away from where he was camped. He walked into the darkness and snuck behind a tree. He did not want to disturb anyone or anything close to him. He then called upon his considerable magical reserves and opened a small window of green light the size of his head in front of him. Within that pool of green light his Master's masked visage gazed upon him. Skulryr bowed his head respectfully before whispering softly, "my lord, I have contacted you to inform you that the Dragonborn is heading to Solitude."

"Solitude? What on Nirn is that man doing, heading to that city? Castle Volkihar, and no doubt Serana, is far to the west of the city."

"My lord," Skulryr continued, "Serana was captured by Penitus Oculatus agents after I set the town alight. They blamed her for the inferno, as I presumed they would."

"Yes, I know that, Skulryr," his Master said disparagingly, "but the Penitus Oculatus have an outpost within Dragon Bridge. They were meant to hold the vampires there whilst you stole the Elder Scroll in all the confusion. Why in Oblivion did they take her to Solitude?"

"The Penitus Oculatus have a new leader, a man named Commander Maro. It seems he is eager to prove to General Tullius that he is dealing with the vampire menace. Bringing him two vampires for him to interrogate would be greatly beneficial for the Imperial army and would improve Commander Maro's status. They are heading to Solitude now."

"Damn it all!" his Master raged. Through the window of green light, Skulryr thought he could hear the sound of something breaking in his Master's study. "Hold on. Skulryr, you said _two_ vampires, were being interrogated. I thought there were three vampires: Serana, Croel and a servant… Vireni."

"Only Serana and Vireni were captured. Croel managed to escape." There was a moment of silence, before Skulryr heard once again the sound of something breaking due to his Master's fury. "Well then," his Master said, "where is Croel now?"

"Ah, yes, about that…" Skulryr began hesitantly.

"_What now_?" his Master hissed.

"Croel and the Dragonborn are both heading to Solitude together. They have decided to work together to free Serana." Skulryr's Master clenched his fists and the window of light momentarily grew brighter as his Master's power built up in rage; however it faded quickly, as his Master regained control. "Skulryr, listen very closely to me. No doubt when they have rescued Serana from the Imperials Croel and Geiric will betray one another, each wanting possession of Serana and her Scroll. When they do so, you are to… _acquire_ the Elder Scroll from Serana, by any means necessary. We must know what it says." Skulryr bowed his head in acknowledgment. He carefully resisted the urge to roll his eyes. While his Master was definelty very powerful and intelligent, he did love the sound of his own voice just a little but too much for Skulryr's liking. His Master tended to repeat instructions to Skulryr and it was grating on his nerves. After all, he was his Master's right hand man; capable of any task that his Master set him, and yet he had been in Skyrim for years now, furthering his Master's goals while his Master remained in his own domain. Skulryr showed none of his unrest to the masked face peering through the magical portal. It would not be good for his own health if Skulryr expressed anything of the sort to his Master. He simply nodded. The masked man motioned with his hand and the portal vanished.

Onmund pulled his fur lined mage robes closer around him. The howling wind that had chased them all the way from the College of Winterhold brought with it rain, snow and worst of all, freezing shards of ice. Of course, they had been travelling through the mountains to get to Whiterun as fast as possible; looking back, Onmund wished that they had decided to go a different way. He looked behind him to see how the rest of his group were doing. Brelyna Maron was handling it the worst. Being Dark Elf, she was used to heat as Dark Elves could withstand hotter fires than any other race. Trudging through snow drifts in what was undoubtedly the coldest region of Tamriel was definitely not what she could handle. Her lips were turning blue and icicles hung from every article of clothing. J'zargo was doing better as his fur helped keep him warm, however he came from Elsweyr, where the sun shone all the time on the desert areas and the massive jungles and rainforests. Cold wind whistling across mountains was not a sight to be found in Elsweyr. J'zargo merely gritted his teeth and kept on moving. The person in the group who was seemingly not bothered by the cold was Lokil. As a vampire he did not feel the cold and he walked on without looking at the rest of them. Lokil was at the back of the group, and he kept grumbling to himself, giving the rest of the group dark looks. Onmund was not afraid of the vampire though; while he was undoubtedly dangerous Onmund trusted that Geiric had done his job well and that Lokil was bound to do everything they said. As Onmund was staring at him, Lokil looked up and caught his eyes. His eyes glowed slightly and Lokil licked his lips. Onmund shuddered and looked back at the way in front of him. Well, maybe he was a little afraid of the vampire.

They kept walking, none of them speaking as they tried to conserve their energy, apart from Lokil who just kept mumbling to himself. They hurried past a giant camp, none of them wanting to tangle with those creatures. They just kept walking and walking and walking. Onmund was so bored that he ended up staring at the rocks on the ground in front of him, looking at the shapes and colours. Except there were only two colours: grey and white. Brelyna suddenly cried out, and Onmund, who was staring directly at the ground in front of him, turned around swiftly, lightning dancing between his fingertips. "What is it? Are you hurt?" he asked her. Brelyna shook her head merely pointed behind Onmund, smiling. He turned around and saw the most beautiful sight: the plains of Whiterun stretched ahead of them. They were reaching the end of the cursed mountain. J'zargo gave a whoop of happiness and Onmund grinned, but Lokil just pushed passed them and kept walking. "Stop laughing like a bunch of fools, it's just the shit-filled dirt that makes up Whiterun Hold." Brelyna glared at him but Onmund just ignored him. The mages were about to set off after the vampire when Lokil suddenly raised a hand and motioned for them to get down. Lokil ran back to the group and crouched with them. "Can any of you cast an invisibility spell?" he asked hurriedly. Onmund and J'zargo shook their heads, but Brelyna replied, "I can do a camouflage spell." She then muttered a quick spell and yellow light spread over the group like a thin film. Brelyna motioned with her hand and the yellow light faded away. "It's done," she said as the rest of the group looked at her quickly. "What's going on Lokil?" Onmund asked but the vampire just silenced him with a hand. They waited for a little while, hunkered down in the snow. Barely a minute had passed when black horses thundered down the road. There were four horses, one in front with three flanking it. Upon the horses were men wearing dark robes with hoods over their faces. Onmund watched the man at the front, evidently the leader; he could not see the man's face as it was hidden in shadow, yet what did attract his attention was a golden sword that hung from the man's belt. It glowed slightly and Onmund, without even being too close to it, could feel the magical aura emanating from it. The man in front suddenly reined in his horse and stopped by the road. He pulled down his hood. Lokil suddenly hissed quietly. The man was evidently a Breton, with reddish hair and a beard. The man turned back to his companions saying, "Fellglow Keep is just ahead. We are nearing the end of our goal!" The man then wheeled his horse around and charged towards the plains of Whiterun.

Brelyna let out a huge breath and released the camouflage spell as soon as the last of the riders had disappeared. She was sweating, even in the coldness of the mountain, due to the effort of maintaining the spell. Lokil got up off the ground and immediately began swearing rapidly. Onmund and the rest of the group also get off the ground. He turned to his fellow mages. "Did you feel the power coming off that sword?" he asked excitedly. J'zargo and Brelyna Maron nodded back equally excited. "Brelyna, J'zargo, do you know what it is?" asked Onmund. J'zargo shook his head but Brelyna said, "I don't know exactly what it is but I know that the magical emanations coming from it were Daedric." Lokil suddenly paced back towards them. His orange eyes were flaring in anger and he glared directly at the three mages. They all stepped back away from the steaming vampire. Lokil glared at them before hissing, "Do you have any idea who just rode past us?" The students looked at each other, uneasy with Lokil's anger, before shaking their heads meekly. "_That,_" Lokil spat, "was Malkoran, one of the most powerful necromancer's in Tamriel, certainly in Skyrim. He hates mages like you who persecute his work and he is a fierce enemy of Meridia. He has been hunting down her followers for ye-"

Brelyna suddenly gasped, breaking Lokil's train of thought. He glared at her again but she ignored him, turning towards her friends. "Meridia, the sword… I knew I recognised it from somewhere. That sword is Meridia's artefact. It's Dawnbreaker!" she said breathlessly. Onmund and J'zargo stared at her for a moment before J'zargo's eyes went wide. "Fellglow Keep, the place the necromancer mentioned… I know that name. Did not Orthorn, you know that apprentice who went missing a few months back, mention that place. He said that it was a place full of mages that had left the College of Winterhold."

"Yeah, I remember," Onmund recalled, "Orthorn was lazy and shit at magic, and he always talked about going to Fellglow Keep to join up with them. I wonder if that's where he went."

"Probably," J'zargo agreed, "but what I am saying is that the mages who left the College of Winterhold and went to Fellglow Keep were either mages that had been expelled from the school or those who had left to because they wanted to do _experiments_ and practise forbidden magic away from the College. Which means that the keep is probably filled with-"

"The meanest bastards who practise magic in all of Skyrim," Onmund interrupted grimly. J'zargo nodded. Lokil suddenly joined their conversation. "And if Malkoran is heading there, then it can only mean bad things."

"Don't forget about Dawnbreaker either," Brelyna added. "Meridia's artefact, the sword of light, in the hands of necromancers and evil mages, I shudder to think of the consequences." Onmund looked around the members of his group. Brelyna looked pale at the thought of what Malkoran and the mages at Fellglow Keep could do with Dawnbreaker, J'zargo looked angry and Lokil… well; Onmund could not really tell what was going through his head. However, Onmund decided that they could not ignore this. "I think that we should find out what's going on at Fellglow Keep. We have to deal with them."

Lokil shook his head immediately. "Are you insane?" he began, "Malkoran, as I just said, is the most powerful necromancer in Skyrim. The mages in that fort are probably murderous and insane. And you want to _deal_ with them? You'll die. No wait, you won't just die, you'll be tortured, then killed and then Malkoran will resurrect you and force you to become his servant for the rest of your undead life. Think on that mage, your soul will not pass on to Sovngarde." Onmund merely looked at him coolly.

"I would not wish to meet my ancestors in Sovngarde with shame. If we run from this then who knows what those mages could do with Dawnbreaker? We owe it to the people of Skyrim and to magic itself to prevent these mages from tampering with it." J'zargo looked ready to burn down the fort with his bare hands but Brelyna looked a little unsure. "Onmund," she said "we are not powerful enough to defeat these mages on our own."

"Thank you," Lokil began.

"However," Brelyna continued, narrowing her eyes at Lokil, "are we not close to the great city of Whiterun, home to the courageous Companions?" she asked innocently. Onmund grinned, J'zargo clapped her on the back.

Lokil just sighed and said, "Fuck."

**Sorry for not updating for a while but I have been away. Hope you like this chapter as I feel that I need to get Lokil's and the mages' storyline moving. I am also going to extend the character's that I include in this story *hint, hint the Companions*. I also included a viewpoint from Skulryr, it's been so long since I last included him in the story that I bet you all forget about him. If there are any characters that you want to see in this story than review and let me know. Hope you are all still enjoying the story.**


	18. Skulryr's Spy

Isran was not a patient man. Not with his fellow comrades in the Dawnguard, not with anyone. Especially not with Imperial couriers. He detested their manic energy and permanently hurried expression, as if every moment they spent delivering a message to you they were thinking about more important messages to give to more important people. However, even Isran conceded that they were useful. Gunmar had knocked on his door just moments ago. Upon admittance Isran had found a courier waiting alongside him. The courier had simply placed a letter on Isran's desk before bustling out the door swiftly. Irritated with the courier's rudeness, Isran snatched up the letter from the table and tore it open. He read through it quickly, his irritated expression fading to one of surprise and then eventually resting on eagerness. He threw the letter down and ran out his door. Gunmar had reached the end of the corridor and was about to descend the stairs when Isran shouted, "Gunmar! Gather Celann, Sorine and Florentius and bring them to my study. I must speak with the four of you."

Once Gunmar had brought all the people to his room, Isran shut the door before heading to his chair and seating himself in it. Isran picked up the letter and pointed at it eagerly. "I received this letter moments ago," he began as the members of the Dawnguard looked at him expectantly. "It is from one of our men posted outside Castle Volkihar. He has been spying on the castle for weeks now, trying to glean any useful intel on our foes. And now, he has reported something very interesting. He has seen Harkon and two of his closest advisors, named Vingalmo and Orthjolf I believe, leave the castle under the cover of darkness. The Lord has left the Castle!" Isran ended gleefully. Gunmar breathed out loudly, Florentius muttered something unintelligible, Celann looked shocked but Sorine remained calm and expressionless. "What does this mean for the Dawnguard?" she asked Isran, her eyes resting on his. Isran responded, "I think that this is our time. Our time to strike the castle and rid the vampire filth from our lands. Cut off the head and the snake will wither and die. Without their leaders, the vampires that have been plaguing the Holds of Skyrim will be directionless and will be easy prey for the Dawnguard."

"Are we sure that this information is accurate. And even if it is, perhaps Harkon will return within a few days. Maybe he is just going out hunting," Florentius Baenius questioned.

"I trust the man. He has been with the Dawnguard for far longer than you have. Durak was one of my first recruits. He is loyal and intelligent enough to realise that Harkon has never left his lair. Not even to hunt. If he has left now, than it must be something important. We just have to hope that it will keep him from the castle for more than a few days."

"And what if he does? What do we do when we have taken Castle Volkihar? We may be able to eradicate the Volkihar members within the castle but what about when Harkon returns? We are not strong enough to kill him, not without the Dragonborn," Florentius replied.

"I do not intend to stay at Castle Volkihar and wait for Harkon to return," Isran said, a malicious grin forming over his face. "Sorine Jurard has been tinkering with Dwemer artifacts and she has managed to create a powerful bomb that can destroy a small stone house. I had her making these bombs in great quantities… just in case something turned up." The other men in the room turned to Sorine who just shrugged emotionlessly. "And what do you plan to do with these bombs Isran," Celann asked tentatively.

"Oh nothing. I am only going to use them to reduce Castle Volkihar to rubble. Without his castle Harkon will be much easier to destroy," Isran finished. Gunmar gave a yell of excitement and Celann grinned.

"I intend to take most of the Dawnguard with us to end this foe. However I would like one of you to stay behind with a dozen men and handle any other problems that may arise whilst the main force is away. Who will stay behind for me?" Isran asked, looking at all of them.

Gunmar stepped forward. "Isran, I am your best warrior and I feel that I should go with you. My axe is getting rusty. Let me wet it with vampire blood." Isran nodded his approval.

Celann was the next to step forward. "Isran, I have been with you since the beginning and I have proven to be a capable commander. I should go to Castle Volkihar to help you coordinate our plan of attack." Isran once again nodded in acceptance.

Florentius simply stated, "Arkay's blessing and might follow the Dawnguard. I must be there as we wipe out the Volkihar forever."

Sorine spoke up suddenly. "Isran I would be more than happy to stay behind. I can handle any problems that occur and I can continue making weapons for the Dawnguard. In the wild I fear I would be of little use."

"That is honourable of you Sorine but I need you to work the bombs," Isran said, frowning slightly.

"I can teach you all how to work them. It would not be a problem they are simple to use."

Isran studied her for a moment longer before nodding. "Fine then, you will stay behind."

Sorine smiled for the first time since she had stepped into the room. "Excellent, I will stay behind to lead the rest of the Dawnguard. I promise you, they will be in safe hands."

Skulryr felt a presence suddenly envelop his mind as the unknown power tried to contact him. He realised that it was his Dremora servant that he had placed into the body of that Dawnguard woman; Sorine Jurard. He quickly crept off into a secluded corner, off them main road that he was walking on. He went behind a bush before uttering an incantation. A miniature form of Sorine Jurard appeared in front of him; though the image was slightly transparent. "Master," the dremora intoned, "I bring word of the Dawnguard's movements. Most of the main force, including Isran, has left the fort to attack Castle Volkihar. I have remained behind with a skeleton crew to manage the base." Skulryr barely resisted the urge to gape in amazement. Isran was attacking the Volkihar vampires' home? This definitely changed things, a great deal of things. "Why has Isran attacked now? What has changed?"

"Lord Harkon has left the castle. Isran thought that no was the best time to attack the castle, whilst the master was away. They intend to destroy the castle with bombs that I… that Sorine Jurard made."

Skulryr did not even notice the dremora's slip. He was ecstatic. His minion was now in control of Fort Dawnguard. He knew that he could order the Dawnguard to do whatever he wanted, with the help of Sorine. When he had first encountered the Breton woman he did not relaise how important a spy she would become. Skulryr, at the time, had just thought that she would report the movements of the Dawnguard, he did not know, could not have known, that she would end up being the temporary leader of the Dawnguard. Skulryr thought long and hard for a few mintues. Sorine Jurard's image began to fidget impatiently as Skulryr just sat in silence. Finally, he spoke. "I need you to order the Dawnguard to find a Moth Priest. Have them bring one to Fort Dawnguard. Then, I need you to _personally_ escort the Moth Priest to Whiterun. Once I am in possession of Serana's Elder Scroll I am going to need that Priest to read it for me. This order takes precedence over everything else. You must find the priest quickly and bring him to Whiterun. Stay with him in the Bannered Mare, I will contact you there as soon as I can." Sorine's image bowed and then flickered gently before vanishing. Skulryr wondered if he should contact his Master and update him of the situation. _No_, he thought,_ my Master need not know until the Elder Scroll is in my hands_.

Geiric waited patiently as Rollof relived himself behind a shrubbery. He had grown to like the Breton immensely. Rollof was always irritated with Croel after their turbulent first meeting and that was perfectly fine with Geiric. He also detested the smug vampire and was happy to share in Rollof's anger towards him. They had been travelling to Solitude for about a few hours after leaving Dragon Bridge and they were now within sight of the city's impressive walls. Geirirc turned to Croel and said, "I hope you have a way of concealing your… _notable features_ from the citizens of Solitude. I do not want to be arrested and held in a cell on account of helping a vampire into the city."

"No need to worry about that, Dragonborn," Croel sneered in reply, "I am sure that they would simply kill you, not throw you in prison." Geiric glared at him as Rollof finally rejoined the pair.

"Anyway," the vampire continued haughtily, "I am an expert mage; of course I can use illusion to hide my appearance." Geiric sighed before continuing down the road to Solitude. Rollof followed him quickly, eager to get away from the vampire's malicious presence. "I really hate that guy. I hate his personality, his face, even his armour and weapons look malevolent, just like he is," Rollof said.

"Agreed," Geiric uttered, "But if you think Croel's weapons are evil you should come down to my house in Whiterun, Breezehome, and see some of the things I have got stashed away in there."

Rollof smiled. "What kind of things have you got, oh marvellous dragon-slayer?"

"Well, I have an ebony blade, curtesy of Mephala. Ebony mail from Boethiah, an awesome magical shield from Peryite and a staff shaped in a rose from Sanguine."

Rollof's mouth dropped open. "Is every trophy you have Daedric?" he asked in awe.

Geiric shook his head. "No, I have some Dragon Priest masks that I collected from creepy undead Draugrs in old Nord burial tombs. They are definitely not Daed-"

"HOW MANY?" Croel's voice suddenly boomed from behind them. Geiric and Rollof both turned swiftly to see, Croel lurching towards them, eyes burning furiously. Both men drew their swords, unsure of what was happening. "_How many masks?_" Croel repeated in a deadly whisper.

"Eight," Geiric said quickly. Croel suddenly stopped moving towards them and it seemed as if a dark cloud had suddenly passed. Croel brushed past them, muttering to himself. Geiric and Rollof looked at each other in amazement before hurrying after the vampire. Geiric was about to ask what on Nirn was the vampire on about when he saw that they were very near to the gates of Solitude. "We are here," Croel said, turning around to face them. Rollof gasped and Geiric barely managed to avoid doing so. Croel's entire face had changed. The previously pale white skin had become more lively and pink, as if blood was really rushing through his centuries old veins. His eyes, no longer a vibrant orange, were now blue as the sky. He no longer appeared gaunt, but instead looked… just like every other ordinary Nord in Skyrim. "Time to rescue Serana."

Serana hissed as one of the Penitus Oculatus soldiers came into her cell. She was chained to a wall, her arms bound above her in an extremely uncomfortable position. Her neck was also chained to the wall, and her legs were fastened by shackles. She bared her fangs and her eyes flashed red but the man was not fazed. He was the Commander, Serana realised. He was a stern looking man, with hard eyes, like agates. Behind him, two men were gripping Vireni tightly in their arms. Under normal conditions Vireni would have been able to overpower both of those men easily due to her vampiric strength and speed. However neither of the women had received any blood during the last few days, as Serana and Vireni had not hunted for a while before they were captured, and they were both much weaker than normal. "Bring her," the Commander said coldly, and two more Penitus Oculatus agents appeared and freed Serana from her chains, only to then clamp shackles onto her arms. She hissed at them angrily but they ignored her. The four men dragged the two vampires from the prison cells where they had been held ever since they had arrived in Solitude. Serana had learned from the words that the soldiers had been saying that they were in the basement of a building called Castle Dour. However now, they were being taken from the building and walked through the streets of Solitude to the massive palace right at the end of Solitude. Citizens on the streets peered at them curiously before shrinking back in fear upon realising that they were vampires. Angry shouts filled the streets and Serana thought that they were going to form a mob. However the cold eyes of the Commander halted any more vicious actions.

The group finally entered the Blue Palace and were brought up to the throne room. Already there were a few nobles seated in chairs in the room, a steward, a stern looking Imperial dressed in armour flanked by a Nord woman and the Court Mage. Serana looked at each of them in turn carefully, scrutinising their faces. When she reached the Court Mage, Serana gasped quietly. The female mage was a vampire; Serana could recognise the signs with ease. Whilst the woman had done a good job of hiding her true nature with illusion magic, Serana could detect the subtle signs that gave away who she truly was. At this point, a woman wearing robes and a circlet set with a ruby walked into the room before sitting in the throne. As everyone bowed, Serana knew that this was the Jarl of Solitude, and the supposed High Queen of Skyrim. The vampires were then pushed to the floor in front of the Jarl as she gazed at them attentively. "Queen Elisif," the Commander said respectfully, "we caught these two vampires burning down Dragon Bridge."

"What of it?" one of the nobles seated in the chairs said arrogantly, "Vampires have been attacking everywhere in Skyrim for weeks now, why do these two concern our Jarl?"

"It concerns our _Queen_, Thane Erikur," the Commmander continued, somewhat less respectfully, "because the dark haired one was carrying this." The man reached under his cloak and withdrew the Elder Scroll that Valerica had given to Serana all those eons ago. Everyone in the room gasped, but none more so than Elisif herself. She looked beside herself, face going pale. She stood up from the throne and grasped Serana by the chin and painfully tilted her head up towards her. Serana looked the woman in the eye proudly, her flowing black hair tumbling down her shoulders. The Jarl looked shaken before turning to the stern man wearing armour. "General Tullius, I want these vampires locked up in the basement of the Blue Palace. They will remain there so I may question them later. No one else will see them unless I give the word." The man bowed low, before gesturing to the Nord woman behind him. She ordered the Penitus Oculatus men to follow her, bringing Serana and Vireni with them. The last Serana saw of the Jarl was her brooding expression and her eyes boring into hers.

Potema dismissed the court after the vampires were taken to the cells in the depths of the palace. She hurried to her chambers and locked the door behind her. Then, she went to her drawers and pushed past her clothes until she reached a metal strongbox buried at the bottom. Withdrawing the strongbox she placed it on her bedside table before taking a key that hung from a necklace around her neck, hidden from view beneath her bodice. She quickly opened the strongbox and pulled out a small black orb from the box. She placed the orb on the table and touched it with both hands, before murmuring an incantation.

The shadows in her room gathered together, and a thick dark mist emanated from the orb. As she expected, a voice echoed around the room. "_Why do you summon me, Potema Septim?"_ the darkness hissed.

Bowing her head, Potema said anxiously, "My lord, an Elder Scroll carried by the vampires that Croel was meant to be accompanying has fallen into my possession. The vampires have been put in a cell below the Blue Palace on m orders, but now I await your instruction."

The shadows in the room roiled and undulated madly. "_What is Croel doing? He was meant to bring the Scroll and Serana to Harkon, causing the lord of the Volkihar to obsess over finding Auriel's Bow! He was also meant to be finding the other Scrolls! What is he doing?" _Potema flinched, expecting the shadow to lash out in anger; her Master was usually calm and composed but when he was angered his wrath was terrifying to behold. The shadow stopped moving however, instead it slid silkily back to the orb. As it did so, the shadow murmured, "_You must summon me tomorrow night; bring the Elder Scroll with you. I must know what it says. The location of Auriel's Bow is imperative to the success of my plans."_ The shadow then disappeared into the orb and light once again returned to the room.

**Hi everyone. I hope you are still enjoying the story. This chapter has been released this early because I had so much to write and I just had to do another one so soon. Finally, Sorine is back but not to help the Dawnguard! Hope you like this chapter, please review and tell me what you think!**


	19. Escape from the Blue Palace

Valerica sighed as she watched lightning rent the sky of the Soul Cairn apart… for what must have been the hundred thousandth time. She idly cleaned her fingernails as she watched black undead skeletons shamble across the ground. She heard the wailing of cursed souls, doomed to wander the Soul Cairn for eternity. That was all she did now. Watch and listen. Watch and listen.

The vampire woman walked to her alchemy table and prepared to make another potion out of the ingredients that were growing in the Soul Cairn. Then she placed the liquid in a vial and placed it on a shelf, neatly labelled of course. Just because she felt like she was going to go insane if she spent any more time in this hellish place did not mean that she would succumb to disorder. Oh no. If there was one thing that Valerica still had left it was order.

Watching and listening. Valeirca leant on a pillar and gazed out across the plane, noticing every change that occurred. After all she had been in this place for thousands of years, far more time than she had spent on Nirn. She could recognise everything about this place; and yet, she never gave up her aspiration to return home. She knew that someone would come for her, one day. But until then she would not break. She just watched and listened, watched and listened.

For that was the task that had been set for her by her… _ally? Associate?_

Certainly not her friend. And definitely not her Master. She had no master and never would. Valerica was capable of doing despicable deeds but she would always have her pride. The deal she had made with Hermaeus Mora was one not likely taken but one she would gladly make a thousand times over. He had promised to watch over her daughter and keep her safe; in return she would watch and listen. Watch and listen.

A green portal suddenly opened in front of her and a masked man's face appeared in the centre of it. "Valerica, Hermaeus Mora wants a report," the man said brusquely. Valerica sneered at the man with distaste written all over her face. She loathed the man in the portal, but at the same time she needed him. His was the one face that she had seen in all her time here. They had grown used to each other and these visits were filled with both of them being irritated with each other. However Hermaeus Mora had asked them to converse so that he knew exactly what was going on in the Soul Cairn. "There is nothing new. I cannot see anything with my own eyes. When I use my scrying bowl all I see worth of interest are the Keepers and Durnehviir. There is also a portion of the Soul Cairn that is hid from my sight using strong magic. Nothing has changed for centuries," she snapped at him.

"The Master thinks that the darkness that you cannot see past is where what interests him is."

"He's not my Master and so what? I cannot move from this position because of Durnehviir and Hermaeus Mora has no one else in the Soul Cairn to do his bidding. I have protected the Elder Scroll all this time and I have not killed myself from boredom. I have done all that he has asked of me and so now I ask something of him. Is my daughter safe? Hermaeus Mora has ensured that she has come to no harm?" Valerica asked angrily.

The masked man smiled although Valerica could not see that. "Of course, my lady, Serana is not in any danger. She remains in her tomb where you placed her. Nothing has changed. She is being kept from harm."

Serana screamed in agony as the Imperial torturer placed a burning coal on her cheek. She yelled as her cheek blackened and burnt beneath the heat of the fire. "You know what I just _love_ about vampires?" the torturer asked calmly as his assistant pressed the coal on Serana's other cheek. "It's your amazing healing ability. I can torture an ordinary woman for weeks, but eventually there is just not enough body area left undamaged. The person usually dies from shock anyway after it becomes too much for them. But you, oh, with you I can go on indefinitely. Just think on that why don't you. I am the soul of patience, I can wait as long as-" Serana stopped screaming just long enough to begin chuckling to herself. "What? What are you laughing at?" the torturer asked, disgruntled that she had interrupted his monologue. The Imperial torturer was a short, bald man with absolutely no facial hair whatsoever. His assistant was the opposite. Big and hairy, he was just as shocked as his colleague. "Why are you laughing?" the torturer screamed angrily.

"You say that you are the soul of patience," Serana said hoarsely. "I have spent four thousand years locked in a box with no one else but myself. You have no idea what patience is little man." The torturer's eyes went flat before he motioned to his assistant. The man ripped Serana's robes off, exposing her bare breasts. She was still bound to the wall by her chains so she could do nothing to stop the coal from touching her breasts. Serana screamed once again.

Croel mesmerised the bar maid in the Winking Skeever to bring him a drink. He saw Rollof glaring at him for his use of power but he ignored him. The man was just a lackey, no one of any concern. They were both sitting at a table waiting for Geiric to come back from prowling around Solitude, looking for news about Serana and Vireni. The barmaid came back with his drink and he smiled at her winsomely before turning back to see Rollof still glaring at him. He was about to say something to the man when Geiric came back in accompanied by a red haired Nord. They both sat down at the table and asked the barmaid for some ale. "So, I have found out that Serana and Vireni are being held in the Blue Palace, in the Jarl's personal dungeons," Geiric said after he had taken a gulp of his drink.

"Are you sure that the information is accurate? We don't want to be breaking into the wrong place," Rollof said, laughing nervously.

"I'm sure," Geiric assured. "I was told this by one of the Jarl's thanes, Erikur. I met him at a party in the Thalmor Embassy and we hit it off so he was more than happy to tell me. To be honest I think he likes spilling Elisif's secrets as he wants to cause her downfall and become Jarl himself."

"What about the Elder Scroll? Where is that?" Croel asked, leaning forwards slightly. Geiric frowned at him and Rollof glared at him once again. The unknown Nord with red hair did nothing and did not change his expression. "That is located in Commander Maro's rooms in the Blue Palace. He kept it for safekeeping even though the Jarl wanted to keep it herself but General Tullius backed Maro's decision so she ended up letting him have it. His rooms are guarded day and night by six Penitus Oculatus agents, and they are the best fighters in the Imperial army. Maro himself is a renowned warrior and strategist," Geiric explained. Croel's mood went down severely after that piece of news. First of all Serana was sperated from the Elder Scroll which meant the job would be twice as difficult. Secondly the Scroll was heavily guarded and they would undoubtedly raise the alarm in getting it. "How in Nirn and all the realms of Oblivion are we meant to do this then?" Croel hissed in anger. He was so frustrated and angry. He still had a deadline to keep with Lord Harkon and his true Master would be furious with the delay in finding Auriel's Bow. Geiric however began to smile and the Nord with red hair spoke for the first time since he had sat down at the table. "That is where I come in, laddie," he said in a strange accent. Croel instantly took a dislike to the man. He was not a _laddie_. And he certainly did not like the smug tone in the man's voice. "This is an old friend. I ran into him lurking around the Bard's College."

"I always love to listen to a bit of music when I can," the man explained.

"Anyway, this is the man who is going to get us in and out of the Blue Palace, undetected," Geiric said eagerly.

"Anything for my friend the Dragonborn," the man said smiling at Geiric. "The name," he continued, turning to face Croel and Rollof, "is Brynjolf. I am a member of the Thieves Guild."

Night fell throughout Solitude and citizens were retreating to their homes, out of fear of more vampire attacks. However in the dungeons of the Blue Palace the Imperial torturer continued with his work, and Serana continued to scream. His assistant had left to go home but he remained behind, determined to make her break. "Enough," Jarl Elisif said. She had come to the dungeons after dark and had been watching the torturer work for hours. The torturer stopped and Serana lay back and breathed heavily, closing her eyes so tears of pain would not fall. "Your kind's tolerance is truly amazing," she remarked to Serana, watching the burns, scratches and broken bones heal before her eyes. "However, now is the time for truth. While you have been tortured here by this loyal patriot," she pointed at the torturer, who puffed up in pride at the woman's words, "your friend has been in the hands of my guardsmen. They are not skilled torturers though you will be pleased to know. Many of them have left their homes and wives to join the Imperial army you know." Serana opened her eyes, squinting at the woman, wondering why she was talking about her lonely soldiers. "Yes it is truly sad. They were taken from their lovers and have forgone many comforts. But luckily, I am a kind Jarl," she continued smiling maliciously. "I don't want to see my men without comfort. So your friend Vireni has been keeping them very comfortable." Serana was still unsure what the woman was talking about. The Jarl kept smiling, expecting to see a change of expression but when she realised that Serana did not understand what she was talking about she rolled her eyes before leaning in close and whispering, "Your dear friend has just been raped by over thirty men." Serana gasped before lunging at the Jarl. However the woman whipped herself out of the way with incredible speed, laughing as she did so. "As I said, your kind's tolerance is truly amazing. Why it took until the tenth man before she began to cry, and the seventeenth before she passed out. Luckily she woke up before too long. My mages saw to that. Shock magic is definitely the best method for waking up someone from sleep I have found." Serana strained with all her might, and the chains suddenly snapped. She lunged at the Jarl but the Imperial torturer got in her way. He tried to stab her with the poker that he held in his hands, however she ducked under his flailing arms and tore his throat out with his fangs. She dropped the man and turned to face the Jarl, grinning madly. However the Jarl merely raised an eyebrow before her hands glowed purple. Then chains from Oblivion attached themselves to her arms and back to the wall. Serana yelled in anger but the chains lifted her arms high above her head again. Serana did not realise that Elisif used Conjuration magic.

Potema smiled as the dark haired vampire was once again chained to the wall. She enjoyed watching the expression on the bitch's face as Vireni's circumstances were revealed. However now was not the time to be vindictive; not yet. She walked out of the cell as the vampire hissed and spat behind her. Potema walked to the end of the dungeon corridor where the Imperial guards were. Using Illusion magic, she cast a spell on the two guards' minds, ensuring that the purple shackles from Oblivion she had used to chain Serana to the wall looked like ordinary metal ones to them. As she walked back to her chambers she realised that it was nearing midnight. Soon she would have to get the Elder Scroll from Maro's rooms. But not yet. She wanted to celebrate with some wine and sweet rolls due to her victory over the bitch and her friend.

_Vingalmo and Orthjolf would find this hilarious,_ Croel thought as he trudged through the sewers of Solitude. Deep in other men's shit was a positon Croel thought he would never be in; much less having to walk through miles of it. And yet that damn Brynjolf said that this was the best way to enter the Blue Palace without being seen. The only difficulty they had encountered so far was a nest of skeevers that they had run across; however Croel had merely set fire to their nest with Destruction magic and they had not met any other form of life since. Brynjolf suddenly made a motion with his hand for them the group to be quiet. Then he pointed at a manhole cover directly above them. "This is the manhole cover we need to get into the Blue Palace. It opens up in the basement near to the dungeons. Serana will not be far away, however she will be heavily guarded."

"Are we clear on the plan?" Geiric asked. "We will rescue Serana and her friend whilst Brynjolf gets the Elder Scroll from Commander Maro's rooms."

"We all know the plan, Dragonborn," Croel said snidely. Croel did not like letting a thief put his hands on the Elder Scroll that he desperately needed but what choice did he have? Geiric rolled his eyes, exasperated as Brynjolf made his way up the ladder and through the manhole cover. Geiric went next, followed by Croel and lastly Rollof climbed into the Blue Palace. Immediately Croel cast a spell for detecting any life in a close proximity. "There are two guards standing at the end of the corridor," he said quickly to the other two men; Brynjolf had already slunk away to the upper levels of the palace. Geiric nodded before he crept to the end of the corridor. Geiric drew his sword and peered round the edge of the corridor they were in to the adjacent corridor that led to the dungeons. "I'll handle this," he said confidently.

"How can you _handle it_ without drawing attention to us," Croel asked. "We are trying to remain undetected remember? Which means you cannot use any of your Shouts."

Geiric turned round to face him and repeated, "I'll handle it." Then he cast a spell of invisibility on himself and vanished from sight. Croel watched the guards at the end of the hall and was unsurprised when he saw them both suddenly slump to the ground. Geiric reappeared again before the guards hit the floor. Croel and Rollof followed Geiric into the dungeons. As he passed the slumped figures of the guards, Croel noticed that they were still breathing. _Fool, can't handle killing innocent people_, he thought angrily. He quickly withdrew a dagger from his belt and slit both the guards' throats, before hurrying after the other men. "Find out where she is," Geiric said. Croel obliged without comment, casting a spell for detecting the dead. A purplish light in a vague shape of a woman lit up the cell at the far end of the corridor. Croel ran to the far end, Geiric and Rollof following behind swiftly. The vampire stopped at the cell at the last cell and peered through the black metal bars of the door. He saw Serana chained up to the wall, a pool of blood by her feet. Croel hissed with anger. "We need to get this door unlocked without smashing it completely. The guards would hear us if we did," Rollof said quickly, noticing Croel's enraged expression. The vampire glared at him before his hand lit up with a green light. He pressed his hand to the lock on the door and it clicked open. Rollof looked reluctantly impressed, however Geiric was unfazed. "It's a simple spell. I've used it many times," he said. Croel ignored him, pushing the door open and rushing into the cell. He noticed the body of a bald man in one corner of the cell, blood leaking out of his throat. He resisted the urge to immediately suck all the blood out of the man. He had been a vampire for thousands of years and urges like this did not affect him greatly. Instead he rushed over to where Serana was chained up. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be unconscious. "What is wrong?" Geiric asked softly. Croel turned around and saw the Dragonborn staring intently at Serana. "From how gaunt and pale she is, I'd say that she has not fed in days, which can be dangerous for vampires, especially young and unexperienced ones. Luckily Serana is neither of those things and her situation is not dangerous yet. However if she is going to walk out of here then she needs to drink human blood," Croel explained. He turned to look at Rollof who was standing near the door in case more guards came close. Geiric saw where he was looking and shook his head. "No. His home was burned down by you; I don't think that he would want to let you take his blood.

"You believe that we burned down his home? How dense are you Dragonborn? The fire was already raging by the time we arrived. We did _not_ start it."

Geiric looked at him carefully before replying, "Maybe that is true but Rollof can't be sure and he won't help you."

Croel was beginning to become very annoyed. "Then where are we going to get fresh human blood from? And, no, before you ask that bald corpse in the corner will not suffice. He's been dead too long."

"What about my blood?" Geiric asked.

"No. No, no no," Croel said shaking his head.

"Why not?" Geiric retorted angrily. Croel always managed to make things complicated.

"Because you are _Dragonborn_. Your blood is Aedric, with the fire of dragons running through it. Mine and Serana's blood is Daedric, and cold as the grave. I do not know what would happen if Serana drank from you."

"We don't exactly have a choice and if we wait here any longer then the guards will find us. It's my blood or nothing."

Croel was becoming very stressed. All of these events were spinning out of his control and he did not like it. A thief with his hands on the Elder Scroll, Serana unconscious and now the Dragonborn was offering his blood. And above all of that, a limited amount of time in which to get everything done. "Fine," he agreed suddenly. "Give her your blood, and do it quickly." Geiric nodded before drawing a plain steel knife from his belt and running his hand over it. He withdrew a small glass vial and dripped his blood into it. Then he gave it to Croel who pressed it to Serana's lips.

Serana was cold and wandering through darkness. She heard a laugh, an evil, malicious laugh that could only belong to a Daedric Prince. She wanted to escape but there was no escape from the plains of Coldharbour. The laugh filled the air again and shadowy hands lashed around her, pulling her down onto a stone altar which had suddenly appeared. Serana had had this nightmare many times before and yet every time she was just as frightened of what was coming next as she had been the first time. A massive shape suddenly reared itself up, out of the shadows. It was the Lord of Domination and the ruler of Coldharbour. Molag Bal. He reached towards her and pulled off her black dress, exposing her nakedness. Serana screamed as Molag Bal bent down towards her, his hands reaching down to touch her smooth body. However at this point something unexpected happened. The sun rose in Coldharbour. Molag Bal shrank away from the heat and all the darkness was stripped of the land. Serana herself was consumed by the fire, but it did not hurt. Instead it felt good, it gave her life. She felt better than she ever had before. A man's face swam in front of her and she instantly knew who he was. "_Geiric_" she said. And then she woke up.

The first thing Serana could feel when she woke up was the blood on her lips. She eagerly licked the last of it up and experienced a taste she had never had before. It burned down her throat like the strongest alcoholic drink she had ever had and filled her up. Next she opened her eyes. Two men were standing directly in front of her, another one standing by the door. The man closest to her looked vaguely familiar but it was the second man, standing just behind the first man that truly struck her. He was the man in her dream, the one who had been heralded by the sun and the fire. He gazed at her with brown eyes and she stared right back at him with her burning orange ones. "Serana can you stand? We need to get out of here now," the man closest to her said shortly. He waved his hands and the chains around her vanished. She almost fell to the floor but the man caught her and held her up as she regained her balance. She looked at the man's sky blue eyes and his healthy pink skin. She still felt like she recognised him so she extended her magical senses like her mother had taught her to do thousands of years ago. Instantly she detected a powerful illusion magic; using her power she pierced the illusion and saw the face for who it truly was. "_Croel!_" she gasped, and then wrenched herself away from his grasp. "Where the hell where you?" she hissed at him. "Where the hell where you when the soldiers took us?" Serana asked again, glowering at him.

"I was where you should have been," he replied arrogantly, "safely hidden away so I didn't get caught and brought to Solitude, _wasting precious time_!" Serana narrowed her eyes at him, and a purple aura surrounded her hands as she prepared to summon lethal magic. "Speaking of wasting precious time," the man from her dreams said authoritatively, "can we do this catch up later? We need to get out of here before the Imperial soldiers find us!" Serana lowered her hands and released her magic. However she was determined to have a lengthy talk with Croel later.

Croel led the way back to the manhole cover in the basement of the Blue Palace. He saw a man standing by it so he motioned for the others to get down before he drew his dagger. He crept silently towards the man and was about to strike when the man said, "I could hear all of you from all the way back down the corridor where you came from. Even a vampire cannot sneak up on me." Croel sighed, realising it was Brynjolf and put his dagger back in its sheath. He motioned for the rest of the group to carry on and the rest of them joined the two men moments later. "This is where we are going to escape through," Croel explained to Serana.

"We can't escape yet, we haven't rescued Vireni," she replied. Croel saw Rollof's shoulders slump with exhaustion at her words and Geiric let out an inaudible exasperated breath. They had all forgotten completely about the second vampire. Croel's mind ran through all the different scenarios they would have to go through the rescue Lokil's former lackey and knew that all of them would end up with them being captured and executed. She just was not worth it. "She's dead Serana," Croel said swiftly, "her body is hanging from the top of Castle Dour, and it is a good thing too. She never would have made it and I would not have gone back for her." Serana gaped at him and then sat down heavily on the floor, her hands covering her face. Behind her Geiric looked at him queerly, no doubt shocked that he had lied about Vireni's death and at how heartless he had been. However Croel had no time for this. "We need to go and we need to go now." He reached down to pick up Serana but she knocked his hand away and stood up herself. Croel noticed that her eyes were dry and he realised that he had not heard her crying. "No tears for your fallen friend?" he asked, curious.

"I may grieve for her," Serana said, eyes flashing, "but you will never see me cry Croel." Brynjolf lifted off the manhole cover and went quickly down the ladder into the sewers. Serana followed without complaint. Geiric leapt down next followed by Rollof and Croel brought up the rear, placing the manhole cover over the top of the hole. The group, strengthened by one, fled through the sewers and away from the Blue Palace.


	20. The Battle of Fellglow Keep

Geiric ran alongside Brynjolf as they fled from the Blue Palace. Using Alteration magic he had conjured a small orb of light that bobbed along next to his shoulder providing them with an easier method of travelling through the sewers. They had been running through the sewers for miles now yet no one had slowed down. Geiric was concerned that Rollof may have been pushing himself too hard but he appeared to be handling it absolutely fine; no complaints had come from him yet. No one in the group spoke as they ran through the sewers; the only sounds where the splashes as their feet hit the muck of the ground below them and the sounds of skeevers scurrying away from them. Brynjolf began to slow down and the rest of the group followed his lead. He stopped by a ladder and began climbing up without a word. Geiric heard Rollof mutter, "Thank the Nine," when he realised that they need not run anymore. Geiric smiled slightly but the vampires, who no doubt had heard it due to their sensitive hearing, remained as grim as they had been when the first entered the tunnels. Geiric followed Brynjolf up the ladder and out of the sewers. He breathed a sigh in relief as he came up in the road next to the Winking Skeever. He quickly moved out the way as the others followed him. It was still night so they were not seen by anyone as Brynjolf quickly replaced the manhole cover when everyone had made it out of the sewers. Geiric looked around and saw a few torches bobbing in the distance. No doubt it was merely the guards doing their rounds; they were too far away to bother them.

Brynjolf led the group away from the Winking Skeever and through the main gate out of Solitude. Geiric was anxious that the group were going to be inspected by the guards or members of the Dawnguard however they fortunately were not. Geiric was slightly surprised to find that there were no Dawnguard soldiers waiting at the gates. When he had last been to a city they had been lurking near the gates, checking people randomly to see if they were really vampires. But here there was no sign of them. He wondered where they had all gone to.

The group walked briskly to Katla's Farm wishing to get as far away from the Blue Palace as possible. Geiric planned to get four horses to carry himself, Rollof and the two vampires far away from here. He did not yet know where they would go but he knew that they could not stay here. A few minutes later the group reached the edges of Katla's Farm. Brynjolf stopped them before they turned the corner into the main area. "I must leave you now. I have brought you as far as you need me for. The rest is up to you." He then withdrew the gleaming, golden Elder Scroll from a satchel across his back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Croel instinctively reach out his hands a little, edging towards the Elder Scroll. Geiric swiftly took it from the thief and placed it on his back. He then took a cloak proffered wordlessly by Brynjolf and put it on, neatly covering up the Elder Scroll. Brynjolf then turned down the path away from Solitude and began to run, melting with the shadows. The rest of the group made their way to Katla's Farm. It was night-time so Katla and her family were all in bed, so they did not see the four figures moving swiftly to the horses in the stables. Croel, anticipating a clamour when the horses were awoken by unknown people in the night, cast a Calm spell over four of them. The animals awoke but did not make a sound beyond the occasional neigh as the group rode the horses away from the farm. Before they left, Geiric placed a bag of coins by Katla's doorstep, not wanting to cheat innocent people. Croel, seeing what Geiric had done, snorted derisively as they galloped away from Solitude.

Lokil pulled the hood further over his face as he came to the gates of Whiterun. It was daylight, but being a Volkihar vampire it did not bother him as much as it did the lesser vampires. No, he pulled his hood over his face because it would not do for the citizens of Whiterun to realise that a vampire was in their midst. The Nord mage, Onmund, was leading the way, followed closely by his friends. Lokil hung towards the back, muttering his complaints to the world in general. The guards let them through the gates without a bother; evidently they only expected dangers like vampires at night. Little did they realise that one was slinking past them into the city they protected.

Onmund led the group up through the Plains District. He was about to climb the steps to the Wind District when they were stopped by a richly dressed Redguard. "Who are you, mage? We've had enough strangers come through this fair city," the man asked rudely, standing in the middle of the road to stop the mages from pushing past him. J'zargo hissed in anger at the man's boorish tone. "We are here to see the Companions," Onmund replied simply, hoping not to antagonize the man any more than they had done so. The Redguard looked at them with a discerning eye before moving off, mumbling something about how no one but he visited the Cloud District very often. Onmund was about to move off when Lokil suddenly dragged him behind a house on the edge of the market square. "What in Oblivion are you doing?" Onmund asked, shoving the vampire off of him.

"There's a member of the Dawnguard there!" the vampire replied, a hint of fear edging into his usually bored voice. "If she recognises me for what I am this could all get very ugly very quickly," the vampire continued. Onmund turned to look and saw a Breton with red hair dressed in the Dawnguard's armour standing at one of the market stalls. She was walking past a stall of fruit and vegetables, looking disinterestedly at the produce. "J'zargo will distract her," the Khajiit said suddenly. Onmund nodded thankfully and J'zargo puffed out his chest, and then walked towards the woman. When he reached her, he began to talk animatedly to her. Onmund watched as he pulled her with him into the Bannered Mare. The rest of the group quickly made their way up the stairs to the Wind District. They instantly saw Jorrvaskr; the upturned boat shaped building dominated the eye as it stretched proudly above most of the other buildings in the area. Centuries of Nordic history was infused into that building, Onmund could almost feel it pass through him. He wondered if his Nord ancestors would be ashamed of him, studying magic at the College of Winterhold. Brelyna nudged him, breaking his reverie instantly. "You alright, Onmund?" she asked, her crimson eyes staring at him with compassion. He nodded wordlessly, before walking to Jorrvaskr. He almost reached the door when Lokil pulled him away from the mead hall and pushed him against the side of it. "What _now_?" Onmund asked, exasperated and irritated.

"I smell werewolves," Lokil said his eyes dilated once again with fear, but this time it was more pronounced. "I… I can't go in there. They will sense me. Vampires and werewolves… we don't mix. You'll have to do this on your own." Onmund stared at the vampire before nodding his acceptance. He required the Companions help, and if Lokil endangered that, then he would have to be elsewhere. "Stay in the Drunken Huntsman until we have finished our business," Onmund said. Lokil nodded then turned and walked back down the stairs. Onmund and Brleyna looked at each other before proceeding through the door to Jorrvaskr.

As the mages entered the mead hall they were blasted by the sounds of the Companions drinking, feasting and yelling at each other. The warriors were in an uproarious mood, and two of them were wrestling with each other on the floor of the hall, whilst the other members egged them on. Onmund cleared his throat noisily but failed to attract the Companions attention. Using Alteration magic, he augmented his voice before shouting, "Excuse me!" The warriors of Jorrvaskr all turned their heads as the voice echoed around the room to see the two mages standing at the door, looking unsure of themselves. A woman with war paint on her face stood up and made her way towards them. "What is it mages?" the woman asked sternly, appraising them. Onmund swallowed nervously as he looked at the woman's face. He was about to explain why they were here when J'zargo stumbled through the door. The woman's hands went to a dagger at her waist at the sudden appearance of the Khajiit but relaxed it when she realised that he was with the other mages. "We have come," Onmund began nervously, "because there is a fort to the north east of here with a group of dangerous mages residing inside. We want your help in defeating them," Onmund explained his voice getting stronger as he continued. The woman listened to him intently before asking, "And do you have the coin to pay us for the job?" Onmund stopped. He did not realise that he would have to pay the Companions for clearing out Fellglow Keep. The other mages too looked astounded. "You did not realise that you had to pay us," the woman guessed accurately. "That may come as a surprise to you but you must realise that we have to earn a living somehow. We will gladly do this deed for you, but only if you have the money." The woman then turned around and walked back to her fellows. Onmund was crushed. They did not have the money to pay the Companions to help them. Suddenly Brelyna Maryon spoke up. "We are doing this to help the Dragonborn. As your Harbinger, you owe him your help." The woman turned around and came back to them. Her eyes were shining with a strange light. "If you are truly helping Geiric then of course we will help you. We will meet you at Fellglow Keep right away." The woman then roared a command to the rest of the Companions and they all began to rush around, collecting their weapons and armour. The three mages took it as their sign to leave Jorrvaskr.

Outside the mead hall Onmund and J'zargo turned to Brelyna. "Excellent work their Brelyna," J'zargo said impressed. Brelyna shrugged it off calmly, but Onmund could see a small smile form at the edges of her mouth. "J'zargo," Onmund asked, "how did you do with the Dawnguard agent?"

"Oh, she left me soon after I dragged her into the Bannered Mare. We had a quick drink and J'zargo told her some things about the College of Winterhold. She said that her name was Sorine and that she had joined the Dawnguard soon after its inception. However she had to return to her room to look after an elderly man she was traveling with," J'zargo explained. Onmund nodded and the group walked to Whiterun's gates. They were about to leave the city and travel to Fellglow Keep when Onmund remembered Lokil. "What are we going to do about the vampire? Onmund asked the others.

"Why don't we just leave him where his is?" Brelyna said. "He can't harm anyone because of the restrictions placed upon him and he would just cause the Companions to mistrust us if they knew he was travelling with us." Onmund nodded in agreement. The three mages then walked out of Whiterun's gates and began the trek to Fellglow Keep.

The group of mages came upon the run down fort as the sun started to dip below the horizon. Onmund had expected to meet the Companions at the fort but it seemed that they hadn't arrived yet. He looked at the other two and shrugged before walking further towards the keep. Onmund wanted to have a look at exactly what they were dealing with. He was surprised at how ruinous the fort was. He would have thought, for mages practising forbidden experiments, they would have wanted a place more secure and defensible. Brelyna looked anxiously around as Onmund and J'zargo strolled around the fort. She had a bad feeling about the place, and did not want to linger here long. Suddenly an ice spike flew past Onmund's shoulder. He yelped, then ducked behind a boulder. J'zargo and Brelyna followed his example, ducking behind whatever cover they could find.

Onmund peered over the boulder and saw an Altmer mage wearing black robes glaring at him. The man motioned with his hand and another ice spike flew towards him. Onmund cast a ward and the spike harmlessly deflected off it. The mage looked disgruntled and was about to fire again when J'zargo threw a firebolt at him. The mage cast a ward of his own, but by this time Brelyna had gathered her wits and summoned an ice atronauch. The attacking mage, who obviously specialised in ice magic, found that his ice spikes were useless against a lumbering ice golem. The mage barely had time to scream before his head was caved in by the atronauch's fist. J'zargo and Onmund both turned around slowly and stared at Brelyna. She just winked at the two of them and waved her hand, nonchalantly, dismissing her atronauch.

However soon after Onmund wished she hadn't as another mage came running up to them. It was a Breton mage and the woman, upon seeing that there were three of them summoned a flame atronauch. The atronauch hurled firebolts at them rapidly and the mage added to the barrage with lightning spells. The College mages once again ducked behind boulders as the spells arced above their heads. "Brelyna," Onmund yelled, "You deal with the atronuach. J'zargo, help me take down the mage!" Onmund's friends nodded at him, determination in their eyes. When there was a pause in the barrage, Brelyna leapt up and conjured a bound bow. The ethereal arrows flew from the bow, piercing the atronauch's side. The summoned creature shrieked and retreated behind a stone pillar. Onmund and J'zargo leapt up and hurled fireballs at the Breton; however she conjured a ward and blocked both spells. The woman laughed at them before hurling lightning bolts back at them while maintaining her ward. Onmund cast the Ebonyflesh spell for protection and focused all his concentration on hurling all kinds of Destruction spells at the enemy mage. J'zargo, who was more adept at Destruction magic than he was, conjured whirlwinds of ice and fire at the mage. Eventually the woman began to become panicked as her magicka began to run out due to maintaining a ward and firing Destruction spells at such a rapid pace. Onmund could see that the Breton was tiring and launched his most powerful Destruction spell at her. His spell impacted upon the woman's ward and broke it. Immediately J'zargo finished her off with a fireball spell.

Brelyna sighed in relief as the summoned atronauch disappeared after the caster died. She joined her friends by the Breton mage's corpse. They all looked over each other to make sure that they were fine and Brelyna was surprised, and impressed, that no one had been hurt. To think that a few days ago they were sitting in the Hall of the Elements, listening to one of Tolfdir's lectures, and now they had managed to defend themselves against dark mages. The three talked animatedly about the event as night grew longer, however they became silent as the sound of horses' hooves and the lights of torches drew close to the fort. They were about to duck down behind a boulder to hide from the unknown people when Onmund recognised the woman leading the group. She had war-paint on her face and carried a bow. It was the Companions.

"What took you so long?" Onmund asked immediately as the Companions got off their horses. The woman who appeared to be the leader grinned and shrugged her shoulders. "We ran into some bandits on the way here and we decided to stop for a while," the woman said unapologetically. Behind her came five other figures, two burly Nords, a wiry Dunmer, and two women, dressed in armour of some sort. The woman with the bow introduced the new arrivals as they get off their horses. "These men are Vilkas and Farkas, brothers. They are the best sword-fighters in the Companions. The Dark Elf is Athis. He's reclusive but this man is good at everything, archery, sword fighting, you name it Athis can do it." At this point the Dunmer looked over at the mages who were all staring at him with respect. "Everything but magic," he added simply before walking back to his horse and tending to it. Onmund immediately liked the taciturn Companion. The woman then explained who the last two members of the little group were. "That's Njada Stonearm, a fellow Nord woman. She's tempestuous but loyal and sticks by her friends. The other woman is Ria. She's the newest member of the Companions aside from the Harbinger. And I am Aela," she finished, turning to the mages. "What exactly do you want us to do?" Aela asked, her bright eyes staring into Onmund's. He swallowed nervously as he gazed back at her wolfish eyes. He had heard Geiric talking with Tolfdir about how some of the Companions were werewolves. He hadn't really believed that they were, but now, gazing into Aela's eyes, he did. "There are some mages in the fort that practise forbidden experiments," Brelyna suddenly said after Onmund did not speak. "They have taken a Daedric artefact, named Dawnbreaker, and we think that they may try and _change its nature_. If they do they may be able to use it to harm innocent people. We want your help in retrieving the sword," Brelyna said.

"By _retrieve_ I assume you mean kill everyone in the fort and then bring the weapon to you," Aela said, the corners of her lips upturned slightly.

"That would be preferable," Brelyna said.

Aela laughed at the Dumner's words. "Fine then. But you must wait outside, I do not want you to get in our way," Aela said firmly. The mages began to protest but Aela did not heed their opinions. "We do it my way or not at all," she said simply. The mages looked at each other before nodding in return. The huntress smiled before yelling to the rest of the Companions to move into the fort.

Onmund sighed. He transmuted a piece of rock into sharp steel. There was a flash of green light as he transmuted the steel back to rock. He had been doing that for hours, ever since the Companions first stepped into the fort. It was really starting to annoy Brelyna. She was worried. The Companions had been in that fort far longer than she had thought they were going to be. She watched J'zargo pace up and down; he was just as visibly stressed as she was. Brelyna breathed in deeply and tried to focus on clearing her mind. Just as she was getting close to achieving equilibrium Ria stumbled out of the fort door, covered in other people's blood. "Mages come quickly, you are needed at the top of the fort." The mages hurridley followed the bloodstained Companion into Fellglow Keep.

The stench of dead corpses and blood was overpowering. J'zargo, having a more sensitive nose, leaned over and retched. Onmund felt like he might join him. It was a horrible smell, one that he had never smelt before in such quantity. There was blood coating the walls and in some places the bodies of the mages looked as if they had been torn apart. There were burn marks on the walls, evidently were the mages had tried to defend themselves against the onslaught. Ria ran through the massacre and the mages followed swiftly. They ran up stairs and through many chambers, each containing at least one dead mage. Finally the group reached the top of the fort. The rest of the Companions were all waiting outside a door that was protected by a shimmering wall of force. Aela turned to face the mages as they joined the larger group. "We have killed every other mage in this wretched place but we have not found anything that looks like a Daedric artefact. We got to this room and found the door sealed like this. We need your help to break through, none of us can do magic," she said apologetically. Onmund looked around. Njada Stonearm was sitting down and cradling her side; evidently she had sustained an injury.

Brelyna was focusing on the magical barrier. She had seen something similar months before. When Ancano first tampered with the Eye of Magnus he had created a similar wall of force. Geiric, Mirabelle Ervine and Savos Aren had had to use three different Destruction spells to destroy it. Luckily, the one around this room did not look nearly as powerful as the one around the Hall of the Elements, however Brelyna surmised it would still take the three of them to do it. "We can get the door down," Brelyna said confidently. "Just be prepared for what's on the other side." Aela nodded to her in acknowledgement.

"Farkas," she said, "Take Njada back to Whiterun, she can't carry on like this." The massive Companion nodded and picked up the protesting woman. He carried her back down the stairs and out of sight. "I'll use frost magic," Brelyna said to the other two mages.

"J'zargo will use fire."

"I guess that leaves me with lightning," Onmund said. The mages focused their power then unleashed their combined Destruction spells upon the barrier. It broke immediately. The blast ruffled the robes of the mages standing in front of it. Aela immediately kicked the door open and sprung inside, the mages quickly following. Aela looked around the small, circular room quickly. In the centre of the room was a pedestal, and an Altmer wearing blue robes was standing behind it, glaring at them. The rest of the Companions were about to follow when the door suddenly shut on them and the barrier reformed. Brelyna swung around, stunned. She did not realise that the barrier could have reformed that quickly. Whoever had created that barrier was evidently a powerful mage. She turned around and saw the woman waiting for them.

The Caller was infuriated… and terrified. The Master had ordered her to protect this fort from any intruders, and now she had the Companions and mages from the College of Winterhold interfering with her experiments. She needed to exterminate the intruders as quickly as possible. "How dare you come here, disrupt my work and kill my assistants? What right do you have?" she asked, her voice raising several octaves in fury.

"We are here to stop you from terrorising our land. We are here to stop you from tampering with what you do not understand!" Brelyna yelled back. Onmund and J'zargo looked at her astonished. They had never heard the mild-mannered Dunmer being so angry before. "You have no right. No right at all to come here mages of the _College_," the Caller hissed. "And what about you?" she said, turning to face Aela who had drawn her bow and was pointing an arrow at the Caller's face. "Why are you here?" she asked.

"I am Aela of the Companions and I am here to stop you from creating a weapon that could destroy us all!" Aela said her voice proud.

"And who told you we have a weapon?" the Caller asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, the mages did," Aela replied uncertainly.

"Those mages hate us. They persecute us because we practise magic outside of their fancy College at Winterhold. They disapprove of us because we don't let them control us. And now here you are, Aela of the Companions, trusting their word that we are evil mages, just because they said so!"

Aela looked at the three young mages, suddenly unsure. It was true that she had just assumed that the mages in Fellglow Keep would be evil, but what evidence did she actually have? Just the word of those mages and a few experiments in the fort that looked creepy. However she had seen experiments in lots of reputable mage's domains that looked creepy. "Are the Companions meant to be the heroes of Skyrim?" the Caller asked scornfully. "To me you are merely mercenary's, looking for treasure in other people's homes. Did you know, Companion, that the College of Winterhold has been here before?" the Caller said, her voice suddenly becoming gentler. "A mage named Geiric came into my fort and murdered all my assistants. Then he came to this very room and slid a sword in my chest." The Caller lifted up her robes and showed the mages a long, livid scar that stretched across her abdomen. Onmund audibly hissed at the size of the scar on the Caller's chest. _That must of hurt_ he thought. "How on Nirn did you survive?" he asked, staring at the scar.

"I do not talk to you mage," the Caller said, avoiding the question, "I address the Companion. The mage Geiric is now the Arch-Mage of Winterhold and your Harbinger if I am not mistaken. Do you know what he was after, Companion?"

Aela shook her head, dismayed at what the answer would be.

"_Books_! He murdered my assistants and stabbed me over a collection of damn _books_!" the Caller said, flying into a rage. She was very angry. All the pressure and stress that she had had to deal with to help her Master's plans succeed suddenly all came crashing down on her. The Caller wanted to blame someone so she would blame the College of Winterhold. "I have suffered so much because of these mages! Now I do not know what you want with Dawnbreaker but I have no idea where it is!" she said, breathing heavily.

Onmund looked up. "We never said that we were after Dawnbreaker."

There was a moment of awkward silence. "Fuck," the Caller said. All the energy and majesty in her voice was suddenly gone. "I nearly had you there didn't I," she asked of Aela.

"You nearly did," Aela replied. Then she loosed her arrow. It raced towards the Caller but she deflected with magic. The Caller threw lightning at Aela but she dived out the way. J'zargo unleashed a whirlwind of fire at the Caller but she cast the Ebonyflesh spell and it did not harm her. Brelyna conjured a Frost Atronauch but the Caller merely blasted it with fire, instantly melting it. Onmund used telekinesis to lift up a chunk of rock from the floor. Spinning it round and round with his magic to gather up speed her lashed it at the Caller. Shrieking, she dived out the way, the rock impacting on the wall behind her, shaking loose a triangular piece of rock. Aela loosed another arrow but it just bounced off the Caller's Ebonyflesh spell. Brelyna stopped moving and focused on conjuring a Dremora Lord. "Brelyna, no!" Onmund yelled towards her. The Caller, noticing Brelyna's stillness, smiled cruelly, before throwing an ice spear at her. Brelyna managed to move so that it didn't pierce her heart; however it did go right through her shoulder. She screamed out in agony and the Caller just cackled with glee.

Onmund shouted out in frustration. The Caller was just too powerful for them. She had injured Brelyna, forced Aela to keep ducking and weaving to avoid her attacks and Jzargo's attacks were doing nothing more than distracting her for a few seconds. Conjuration magic had failed, Destruction magic was ineffective and arrows were just bouncing off her Ebonyflesh spell. Onmund turned around to see the triangular piece of rock lying by the wall. Onmund smiled. Perhaps Alteration magic could do the trick. Onmund ran over to the rock and green light spilled from his fingers. The triangular piece of rock turned to steel. Onmund then lifted the triangular piece of recently transmuted steel lifted off the ground.

The Caller was having the time of her life. Finally she could let off a little steam by killing all the people in this room. Then she would move on to the people outside the room and have a little more fun. But then she would have to begin the long task of getting her fort back up to scratch. After all, Fellglow Keep contained something that was essential to the Master and she needed able mages to protect it. She could not fail her Master; if she did nothing could save her from his wrath, not even death. The Caller threw a fireball at the Khajiit mage and laughed as the mage's ward spell broke under the power of the spell. His magicka had almost run out. Now it was time to finish him. The Caller drew on her vast magical powers and created a massive thunderbolt between her fingers. She was just about to unleash it at the mage when a blade pierced her back, sliding into her chest and piercing her heart. She gasped and blood bubbled out of her mouth, her spell failing immediately. She turned around and saw the Nord mage, grimacing with the power if lifting the massive chunk of metal all across the room. The Caller tried to speak but the blood in her throat and the pain in her body meant that she could not utter a single word. Darkness rushed in and the Caller died silently, choking on her own blood.

**Massive chapter there guys, but I haven't updated in ages so here you go, I hope you enjoy. I really liked writing the fight scene with the Caller as I feel she was an interesting character and deserved a worthy send off. I always thought that Alteration magic in the game wasn't treated as well as it could have been so I wanted to show that sometimes, Alteration magic is the only way to go. Really hope you are all still interested in my story. Please give me comments and reviews so that I can improve. **


	21. Commander Maro's Hunt

Onmund watched as the Altmer mage toppled onto the floor. The woman's body stilled, blood still seeping out of her chest. Then her body crumbled into ash. "What in Oblivion?" Aela said as she watched the body disintegrate.

"She was undead," Onmund explained. "Geiric must have killed her when he stabbed her with his sword but someone or something had the power to bring her back."

"Surely any average necromancer could bring a person back?" Aela said.

"Maybe, but Geiric would not have left anyone in this fort alive. This means that no one resurrected her within Fellglow Keep. The person who did this either has the power to resurrect souls that they are nowhere near to, or they met her soul on the _other side_."

"What do you mean?" Aela said, exasperated.

"Mages like this woman often barter their souls to the Ideal Masters of the Soul Cairn in return for power in Nirn. When they die their souls go to the Soul Cairn as payment. But if the Caller was resurrected then this person must have found her spirit in the Soul Cairn and brought her back. I do not know any mage with the power to do that in Skyrim. This goes much further than I have realised," Onmund said, fear edging into his voice.

"I still don't understand, why is the Caller being undead so significant?"

"Because," Brelyna, who was being tended to by J'zargo, said, "The thing that did this has the power to go against the Ideal Masters' will. They have the power to wander the Soul Cairn freely. And if this person can resurrect this Altmer mage, then they would have done it more than once. There could be dozens of evil mages being brought back to life. Skyrim could be under threat from an army of mages, that once killed can be resurrected, again and again by this power."

Aela looked at the mages' faces to see if they were joking, but all she saw were grimaces and frowns. There was no humour to be found here. She walked away from the mages to study the room. It was empty. Then the rest of the Companions burst through the door, Vilkas having drawn his sword and furiously glaring around the room, hoping to see a foe that he could kill. "There's no need for that," Aela said to him. Vilkas sheathed his sword reluctantly, still hoping for an enemy to challenge him. Aela smiled to herself, before continuing to search the room for Dawnbreaker. However the room merely contained shelves holding a few books. She went to the bookshelves, handling all the books, hoping to find a secret passageway that would lead to a hidden room. She was unsuccessful.

"Mages," she called, turning back to face the three magic wielders from the College of Winterhold. "We have a problem. Dawnbreaker, it isn't here." Brelyna sprang to her feet, ignoring J'zargo's pleas for her to sit down and let him finish healing her. "How is it not here? We know that Malkoran came to this place with the sword, it has to be here!" she exclaimed.

"That's another thing," Onmund said. Brelyna turned around to face him, worry etched into her face. "Where has Malkoran gone? We saw him enter the keep and yet we have not found him anywhere in this place." Brelyna stared at him for a moment before running to the bookshelves. "What are you doing Brelyna?" Onmund asked, watching as she grabbed books by the armful before carrying it to a nearby table. She quickly placed a black orb that was resting on top of the table onto a shelf nearby to get it out of her way before she slammed the books down onto the table. "J'zargo, Onmund, help me read through these books," Brelyna snapped at them. "We need to find the dead woman's notes, see if she had a secret room or place in this damned fort that she has hidden from us." Onmund and J'zargo looked at each other, smiling slightly at Brelyna taking charge before hurrying to the table when she began tapping her foot impatiently. Then Onmund remembered the Comapnions and turned around to face Aela, saying, "This might take a while; if you want to head back to Whiterun that would be fine. You've done enough."

Aela merely raised an eyebrow at him. "On the contrary Onmund," she said, walking over to the table and picking up a book. "We are going to help you. We've come this far, we are going to help you find this sword of you want so desperately." Onmund smiled at her in gratitude and she nodded back, before beginning to read her leather bound book. Vilkas grumbled and began to head for the door when Aela said, without truning around, "Don't you dare leave me to do this on my own you bastard." Vilkas sighed before he and Ria each took a book and began to read.

Nelacar sighed as he watched Orthorn completely fail another simple Conjuration spell. He had been hoping that the young Mer would have had an affinity for this particular magic school, as it was the one he was most proficient in, however once again Orthorn had failed his expectations. The young Altmer mage had come to him a few weeks ago, explaining how he did not wish to go back to the College of Winterhold, but did still want to learn magic. Nelacar, being an Altmer himself, had agreed, wanting to help a fellow exile of the College. Nelacar was pleasantly surprised to find that Orthorn was very proficient with Restoration magic, in some ways better than himself, and that he had a competent grasp of Destruction magic. However, after watching Orthorn try and do Conjuration, Alteration and Illusion magic he was beginning to consider sending him on his way, maybe to Farengar at Whiterun or maybe Madena in Dawnstar. Both of the Court Wizards were friendly and he suspected that they may have more patience towards teaching than he did. Glaring at Orthorn, who was currently complaining to him about the difficulty of the spell he was meant to be performing, Nelacar considered being cruel and sending him to Falion in Morthal. _Let's see how Orthorn can manage in Morthal, the Hold plagued by vampires_, Nelacar thought, smiling a little. _Or I could send him to Wuunferth in Windhelm_. Nelacar snorted as he imagined Orthorn in the city of ice and snow, surrounded by Stormcloaks who hated all elves.

The door to the Frozen Hearth suddenly banged open, exposing the inhabitants to the freezing coldness of the night, and a hooded figure, dressed in brown leather armour and a travelling cloak stepped through into the main room. The people residing in the Frozen Hearth looked at the figure disinterestedly for a moment before turning back to their drinks. The figure paced around the inn, appearing to Nelacar as if the person was looking for someone. He was curious; travellers never came to Winterhold unless they were going to the College. The figure went to Dagur and began to talk in a low whisper to him. Nelacar, who was becoming increasingly curious, cast an Alteration spell for heightening his senses, specifically his hearing. Then he cursed as he realised that all he could hear was Orthorn's whining, nasally voice, still complaining about the Conjuration spell he had asked him to do. "Would you shut up!" Nelacar hissed at him. The young mage became silent, albeit grudgingly. Nelacar turned his attention back to the hooded figure and Dagur and focused his magic once again to listen to their conversation.

"I am sorry, ma'am," he heard Dagur say, "but the Dragonborn hasn't been seen here for months."

"How is this possible?" the hooded woman said, her voice harsh. "I was told by the Dragonborn himself to meet him here. Are you sure that you have not seen him?"

"Quite sure ma'am," Dagur replied, gulping. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must be getting back to my customers." He managed to edge his way past the domineering woman and towards a group of citizens clamouring for ale. The woman sighed in exasperation before turning around and meeting Nelacar's eyes. Nelacar, who had been blatantly peering in her direction, hastily turned around and struck up a conversation with Orthorn, desperately hoping that the woman had not realised that he had been spying on her. "Follow me now, Orthorn," he hissed quietly to the young mage. Orthorn followed him to a table near to the Frozen Hearth's door and sat down with him.

"What are you doing?" Orthorn asked impatiently.

"I think that you deserve a little break for all your hard work," Nelacar replied, still trying to avoid eye contact with the woman, hoping she would just leave the inn and never come back. "You deserve a small break; have an ale," Nelacar continued, smiling at Orthorn. He heard footsteps coming up behind him and he couldn't help but take a deep breath. He readied a thunderbolt spell in his hands in case things get violent. The footsteps neared his table and he saw the mysterious woman sit down opposite him on his table. The woman took off her hood and Nelacar saw that she was a Breton, who looked to be in her thirties with blonde hair and hard blue eyes.

"Good evening," Nelacar said smoothly, trying to hide his anxiety. He did not drop his thunderbolt spell though.

"I felt you spying on me with magic," the woman said, getting directly to the point. "I am attuned to such things; I have to be extra careful, too many people would like to end my life."

"You must have an interesting life then," Nelacar said. "Orthorn, why don't you go and find Dagur and ask him to bring this woman a drink," he said.

"That will not be necessary," she replied quickly. "I do not intend to stay very long. I had hoped to meet the Dragonborn here, as you found out," she turned and gazed at him with her cold blue eyes at this point, "but it appears that he has not been able to make it. I am going to have to find him."

"Why is it that you want to meet Geiric?" Nelacar asked.

"On a first name basis with the Dragonborn are we?" the woman replied, a single eyebrow raised.

"I managed to help him out with a little problem," Nelacar replied, trying not to lose his patience with the irritating woman. "He had a broken artefact of Azura with him and needed me to help him fix it."

"Ah, so you are the mage who 'studies the stars' and helped the Dragonborn fix Azura's Star."

Nelacar internally grimaced at the phrase she had used. He had used it so that the mages at the College of Winterhold wouldn't find out who he was, but he hadn't realised how stupid it sounded. Geiric had been quick to comment upon this, but he had done it in a kindly manner, not like this woman sitting in front of him. "Well, yes, I was the one who helped him," he said, "but I didn't just fix it. I changed its very _nature_," Nelacar explained, pride tinging his voice. There weren't many people in Tamriel capable of doing what he had done to Azura's Star. He had refined it, _improved _it, so that not only could act as a soul gem for animal's souls but for humans as well.

The woman stared at him in disbelief. "How does one change an artefact of a Daedric Prince?"

"Well," Nelacar began, "what you have to understand is that-"

Suddenly all the lights in the place went out. Nelacar heard the door to the Frozen Hearth being opened and several shadowy figures entered through the doorway. One of the figures held up his hand and a purplish light spilled out from his fingers. The light illuminated the inn but it was not the warm light of a hearty fire. This light was cold, and brought forth feelings within Nelacar of death and necromancy. He shuddered and was glad that he still had his thunderbolt spell ready. He looked across from him and saw that the woman had vanished. "Silence!" the man conjuring the light roared at the crowd and his voice immediately instilled quietness in the people of the tavern. The light had shone into the man's hood and Nelacar saw that it was a Redguard mage. "None of you shall be harmed if you give us what we want," the figure said. The mage's three companions spread about the room, swords drawn.

"Who are you?" Dagur asked, his voice quavering.

The Redguard turned to face him and replied, "We are the servants of Lord Malkoran. We have one simple task to accomplish and then we will be on our way. We want a mage residing here, an Altmer mage."

Nelacar suddenly felt cold inside and he could see Dagur's eyes involuntarily sliding towards his. He suddenly felt a hand on his arm and he whirled around about to blast the owner of the hand when he saw that it was Orthorn. "They're after me!" Orthorn said anxiously.

"What? Why would they be after you?" Nelacar whispered, pulling Orthorn to the floor in order to try and remain hidden.

"I don't know why but the place that I went to when I… _left_ the College was called Fellglow Keep and there was this woman who was a necromancer and she had me imprisoned."

"And you think that these men came all the way here to recapture you again?" Nelacar asked doubtfully. He was about to ask more when he saw Dagur pointing in his direction. _Fucking Nords,_ Nelacar thought as the Reguard turned to face him. Well, he wasn't going to go down without a fight. He jumped to his feet and unleashed the thunderbolt that had been building in his hands since he had started talking to that woman. It was much more powerful than he expected it to be; a big beam of blue energy that raced towards the Redguard. The man's eyes widened and he managed to throw himself to one side, barely escaping the spell's wrath. However the cloaked man standing behind the Reguard wasn't so lucky. The man managed to let out a piercing scream as his body was struck by the spell and lifted off its feet before disintegrating. The other two hooded men, aside from the Redguard, tore off their cloaks to reveal that they were Stormcloak guards, however clearly not alive. They held steel swords as they ran at Nelacar and Orthorn. Using telekinesis, Nelacar lifted one of the benches and hurled it at one of the Stormcloaks, catching him in the chest and crushing him against a wall. Orthorn managed to loose a firebolt at the man charging towards him but he missed. The man's sword swung towards his head and was about to make contact when a shining, slightly curved sword intercepted it. Nelacar saw the blade swish once and the undead Stormcloak's head toppled off its body. Nelacar then realised that the person holding the sword was the woman he had found so irritating.

She nodded to him grimly before turning to face the Redguard. Nelacar and Orthorn also faced the Redguard who had got back to his feet and was snarling at the three of them. The Redguard unleashed an ice spike that raced towards the woman's head but she swiped it out of the air with her sword contemptuously. Nelacar was amazed at the woman's skills. She was clearly an effective and precise fighter. The Redguard fired off another ice spike at the woman but once again the woman swiped it out of the air. "This is none of your concern woman!" he howled at her, releasing three ice spikes at the woman. However she pirouetted neatly out of the way and ran towards the Redguard. "But this will be," she snarled at him. Nelacar covered her by firing off another lightning bolt at the Redguard who managed to get a ward up in time to stop it. However he could not stop the woman's sword that slid neatly into his chest. The man gasped and scrabbled at the sword with his hands, desperately trying to push it out. When he realised that the wound was fatal the man lost all of his energy, his arms falling limply to his sides. "Lord Malkoran will find you and he will take what he wants," the man whispered. "Your days and your group's days are numbered."

"Let the bastard try," the woman said calmly, before pulling her sword out of the necromancer's chest and decapitated him. Nelacar hurried to the woman's side to thank her for her aid. He passed Dagur, glared at him, and then reached the woman. She looked at him and held up her hand to stop him from speaking before picking up her cloak and hood from a nearby table. "You will both need to come with me; it will not be safe for you or this town if you stay here."

"Why should I come with you? Surely this is something that the guards can sort out," Nelacar argued.

"Against Malkoran?" the woman snorted. "I do not think so. My group and I, however, we can deal with this threat. I am going to find the Dragonborn, between him and us I think that we can protect you," she said confidently, her cloak and hood were already put back on and her sword was back in its sheath.

"That maybe so, but I have no idea who you are."

"My name," the woman said, staring him straight in the eye, "is Delphine and I am the leader of the Blades. Quickly now, we must go. We have to find the Dragonborn before more foes come to find you and your apprentice." Delphine then ran out of the door, the two mages following.

Potema sat in the throne in the court of Solitude and glared at the man kneeling in front of her. Commander Maro was a tough man and she was sure that he was completely unafraid of dealing with the Jarl of Solitude's wrath. Of course, he was used to dealing with Elisif the _Fair._ He had no idea that he was addressing Potema Septim, the Wolf Queen. "How is it that a prisoner of high importance who could have given us valuable intelligence on the vampire's plans managed to slip past the Empire's so-called finest soldiers, of whom you lead?"

"My lady," Maro began, "my soldiers are the best in Tamriel. The only way the intruders could have gotten past them is with the help of an insider."

"So now you are accusing _me_ of incompetence, Commander! Well then, would you care to explain how the Elder Scroll was taken from your _personal chambers while you were sleeping in the very room!"_ Potema shrieked at him.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Erikur wince a little at her voice but she ignored him.

"Of that I am unsure. The intruders must have had magical capabilities," Maro said weakly.

"Falk, my loyal steward, correct me if I am wrong but are not the Penitus Oculatus trained to deal with enemies that can wield magic?" she asked sweetly.

"That is correct my lady," Falk replied, glancing nervously at Maro.

"My lady, I know that this is an unfortunate incidence but I assure you that General Tullius has his men out searching for the prisoner and the Elder Scroll."

"I do not find this satisfactory at all, Commander Maro. To me this was the Penitus Oculatus' fault, so why are soldiers from the Imperial army being wasted on finding the prisoner and the Scroll when they could be out in the field trying to defend us from the vile Stormcloaks? It is clear to me that the Penitus Oculatus should be cleaning up their own messes."

"My lady?" Maro said, unsure as to what she wanted.

"Commander, I order you to _personally _find the vampire and her scroll, along with the intruders who broke into my palace, and bring them back to me. You are only allowed to use the Penitus Oculatus in your mission and no one else. Understand?"

"But my lady, we are needed in Solitude to prepare for the coming of the Emperor," Maro replied.

"If the Penitus Oculatus is as effective as you claim they are then there should be no problems in you completing the task before the Emperor arrives. If not, well, I don't think that the Emperor should be guarded by a unit that cannot even hold onto to one prisoner. Do you agree, General?"

All eyes flickered to the grim faced Imperial standing to the side of the throne. "I do, my Queen. The Penitus Oculatus have not shown themselves to be competent in any way at the present time. They need to earn back some trust. However," the General continued, turning to face the Jarl, "I do think that a small number should stay behind, so that the Emperor does not think that anything is amiss. After the death of Vittoria Vici, we don't want to cause the Emperor any more unrest."

"Of course not," Potema replied courteously, "off you go now," she said imperiously to Maro. He got awkwardly to his feet, bowed stiffly towards her before walking out of the court. Potema smiled before calling an end to official business and retiring to her chambers. She locked her doors before picking up the black orb and placing it onto her table. She placed both her hands upon it and seconds later the room was filled with a shadowy presence. "I have done everything you have asked my lord," she said, swallowing slightly to clear her throat.

"_Good,_" the shadow responded. "_Thanks to your incompetence it falls upon Croel to retrieve the Scroll for me. Undoubtedly Maro will fail but it does mean that the Penitus Oculatus have left the city. Our alliance with the Dark Brotherhood has served us well. Thanks to them, events have conspired to bring the Emperor right to our doorstep, away from the safety of the Imperial capital."_

"My lord, I was unable to get all of the Penitus Oculatus to leave. General Tullius insisted that a few remain behind so that the Emperor is not under any extra duress."

"_So, even in this simple task, you cannot fully succeed. It makes me wonder why I bothered to resurrect you in the first place_" the voice hissed, a tendril of shadow wrapping ominously around her throat. Potema whimpered in fear slightly as the tendril caressed her neck.

"_But no matter,_" the voice said, the tendril dissipating into the darkness, "_it does not make much of a difference if a few remain behind. As long as the main fighting force has left, it becomes that much easier for us_._ My plan is coming together beautifully, as I knew it would. I will give you new orders soon, dear Potema._"The shadow suddenly reared up to the ceiling of her bedchambers before diving into the black orb, light returning to the room.

Serana's horse began to pant with exhaustion and she couldn't help but agree with it. They had been riding for hours without pause, the night becoming the day and moving further towards noon as the group raced away from Solitude. They had crossed the river, passing Morthal and had reached the mountains that signified that they were close to the Hold of Whiterun. Serana was aching all over and the lack of blood combined with the merciless rays of the sun meant that she was close to passing out. She kept seeing black dots dancing before her eyes and she had to blink rapidly to focus her eyes again.

She glanced to her right and saw Rollof, sweat pouring from his body as the heat of the sun bore down upon him. Serana barely remembered what it was like to sweat, however looking at Rollof, she knew that she did not miss it. "Stop!" she heard Croel yell to Geiric and she saw the Dragonborn reluctantly pull in his reins, halting his horse. The rest of the group did the same and a moment later Serana's legs swung off her horse and hit the ground. She winced as the pain from sitting in the saddle too long that she had been repressing hit her sharply and she gasped, straightening quickly and giving Rollof a view of her ample cleavage. The Nord stopped what he was doing to gape at her and she caught him staring. She hissed at him, her red eyes flashing dangerously and he backed off.

"I mean just look at her, she needs to stop," Serana heard Croel say angrily to Geiric.

"I didn't realise you were so concerned about me, Croel," Serana replied, narrowing her eyes at him, "nor did I realise that you think that you know more about me and my strength of will than I do myself."

"First of all," Croel snarled, rounding on her, "I have been a vampire longer than you of your father has been one of course I know exactly when you need blood. Second of all, I don't care about you. What I do care about is ensuring my safety by getting you to Lord Harkon alive… so to speak. If you lose control and attack either of the juicy mortals we are accompanying then the Dragonborn will incinerate you with three words."

"Yol, Toor, Shul," Serana said immediately, then yelped as fire raced out of her mouth. Geiric and Croel were staring at her in disbelief. "How did I do that?" she said.

"Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, DAMN IT!" Croel yelled, picking up a rock and hurling it away. Serana and Geiric watched the rock sail over the fields before going down a nearby cliff. They didn't hear the impact it made. "What on Nirn just happened?" Geiric asked.

Croel swung around and both Geiric and Serana backed off; Croel's eyes were crimson and his pupils had turned burning orange. "I warned you that Serana taking your blood was a bad idea. Now, through your blood, she has unconsciously gained the power of the Voice. Blood is a powerful thing for vampires, but _your _blood… damn it all to Coldharbour!" Croel seethed.

"So, she knows the Thu'um?" Geiric said. He turned to face her and Serana squirmed under his gaze. His eyes were so piercing and she hated being stared at, it made her feel like an object being examined by alchemists.

"She will only possess some of the Shouts that you know, it depends on how potent your blood is and the quantity she took. Since she only had a small vial, it can't be too much but I can't be sure. I am not an expert in the Way of the Voice!" Croel ranted, throwing his arms up in despair.

"But I know some people who are," Geiric said, his face furrowed into a frown.

"Who?" Serana asked.

"The Greybeards. The Masters of the Voice. If anyone can understand what is going on it will be them."

"But don't they live at the top of the Throat of the World?" Rollof said, walking over to join the rest of the group. Geiric had seen that he had walked off for a moment but he hadn't noticed him return.

"Indeed, but that doesn't change our route. We will go onwards towards Whiterun as we planned and then from there we will be going to Ivarstead, to begin the trek up the mountain." Geiric turned around and climbed back up onto his horse. "We need to get going. We have to find out exactly what my blood has done to Serana."

"I agree," Croel said. "Serana, here." He threw a bottle of blood towards her. "I've been keeping this for an emergency but we don't have time to hunt anymore. We must get to the Greybeards and see just how much you've been changed." With that, the group get on their horses and raced towards Whiterun.

Commnader Maro and his twenty Penitus Oculatus soldiers raced down the path to Katla's Farm. He assumed that when the intruders had left Solitude with the prisoner and the Elder Scroll they would have come this way as it was the quickest route away from Solitude. He saw the owner of the farm, Katla, and two other people, the stablemaster, Geimund, and a small boy. He reined in his horse and walked it over to the group of people. "Did any of you see a group of people in the night come this way?" he asked them.

"I didn't see them," Katla replied, "but they stole four of my horses."

"Mama, mama, I saw them!" the small boy piped up from behind Katla. Maro felt hope rise within him.

"Knud, you silly boy, why didn't you say anything earlier?" Katla exclaimed.

"You never asked!" the boy said cheerfully. "Anyway, I saw five people sneak up to our house. I was playing soldier with a tree but they didn't notice me because I stayed quiet while they were here. One of them gave a long, shiny thing to another one and then he ran off. The rest of them stole the horses and made went off in a different direction."

"Where? Where did they go?" Maro asked eagerly.

"Towards the mountains, sir, towards Whiterun," the boy exclaimed.

Maro quickly wheeled his horse around and galloped off, calling his men to him. They were on the hunt now; he would find them and redeem himself in the eyes of the court.

"Wait a moment," the boy called, and Maro reluctantly turned back to face him. "I recognised one of the people who stole our horses. It was the Dragonborn, the hero of Skyrim!"

Katla stared at her son before fainting, hitting the ground with a small thud. Maro gaped at him before wheeling his horse around and galloping off in the direction of Whiterun. _So the Dragonborn had a part to play in this criminal act,_ Maro thought, his mind racing as he thought through all the reasons why the Dragonborn may have done this. But then he realised that it did not matter. The Dragonborn had broken the law and he would pay for it. Once Maro revealed the truth to the Jarl of Whiterun, he would have no choice but to give Maro a warrant for his arrest. _And then the Dragonborn will realise that no one is above the law. No one._

Garan Marethi sighed as he watched the vampire come into the room. He did not like the man in front of him, hardly anyone in the castle did, but he a member of the clan and therefore deserved at least some kind of attention to his needs. "Yes?" Garan said swiftly, not bothering to look up from the papers that sprawled across his desk. The maintenance of the castle, and the wellbeing of the Volkihar clan, was something that, unfortunately for him, required a lot of papers to be addressed. "Well," the vampire began "you see, Lord Garan, I-"

"There is only one lord of the Volkihar," Garan interrupted, glaring at the man in front of him, "and it is not I."

"Of course, of course," the vampire apologised immediately, bobbing his head in a way that instantly irritated Garan. "Only, there is something odd happening with the shrine to Molag Bal."

"What do you mean?" Garan asked; his interest was piqued for the first time in their conversation.

"Well, it looks like… what I am trying to say is… you know what, it would be easier if I just showed you," the other vampire said.

Garan sighed and glared at the vampire in contempt. Then he grudgingly got up from his chair and stormed out of his study to the cathedral. He passed Fura on the way and nodded to her politely. She returned it with a crimson grin but she completely ignored the vampire trailing behind him. The two vampires finally approached the cathedral and Garan pushed the wooden doors open quickly, causing them to bang noisily against the walls. The other vampire winced and neatly closed the doors behind them once the two had entered the cathedral. Garan rolled his eyes and hissed his irritation. It was feeding time and all the other vampires would be in the main hall, delighting upon Namasur's excellently prepared thralls. Instead he was here to check out the shrine to Molag Bal, which had been perfectly fine for millennia, with a vampire that he detested. _Speaking of which_, Garan thought, walking quickly over to the shrine.

To Garan the shrine appeared the same as always: a river of blood running down it, pooling in the basin and dripping down onto the floor. "What is it," he began, turning to face the other vampire, "that is wrong with-"

He was cut short as a knife slid into his chest, piercing his heart. Garan gasped, shocking pain tearing into him, just like the knife that the vampire kept pushing into him. Garan tried to summon magic to defend himself but he had no energy to call upon. He tried to pull the knife out of him but his strength had also failed him. His vision darkening, he merely gaped as the vampire, who he had known for centuries, smiled cruelly back at him.

He smiled at Garan as Garan raised his hand in supplication but he ignored Garan's pleas for help, just like he himself had been ignored for centuries by the other Volkihar who thought they were better than he was. Finally Garan toppled backwards, sliding off his knife, hitting the floor with a thud. Swiftly, he ran to a wall behind the shrine and pushed on it in a specific place. Part of the wall slid open to reveal a small room. He pulled the black orb from its location on a shelf and knelt by Garan's corpse, pressing his hands onto the orb. A shadow reached out of the orb and coalesced around the room, darkening the cathedral even further. "My lord," he said, bowing his head deeply, "Garan Marethi is dead by my hand."

"_Good. Quickly, do the spell. Use my power to aid you,_" the shadow said, urgency in its voice.

He nodded and began chanting the words of the spell. He placed one hand on Garan's body and one on the orb. Darkness, mixed with a purple colour, poured from the orb and entered Garan's body which began to jerk spasmodically. His energy began to fade and he nearly failed in completing the spell but with strength of will, and because he was afraid of what his Master would do to him if he failed, he managed to finish it. The corpse absorbed all of the shadowy magic and lay still. Then it stood up, purple fires lighting Garan's eyes for a moment before turning back to their normal orange colour.

"_Excellent_," the shadow said. "_Now that he has been reanimated with my power he is my thrall and his will is subject to mine. You have done well,_" the shadow said to him. He once again bowed deeply, pride etched into his face.

"_Now you must do the same for the rest of the Volkihar clan, my loyal servant. I will have the castle under my control. I will not allow Harkon to have the advantage of a powerful clan to aid him. You must do this for me, before he returns. This is your task. Complete it and wait for more orders._" The shadow then sank back into the orb, a faint chuckle echoing around the cathedral. He placed the orb back into the room and pushed against the wall again, hiding the room from sight. The body that had once fully belonged to the Dunmer named Garan Marethi stood limply in the cathedral, waiting for an order. He gave it one.

"Garan," he called, and the twice undead Dunmer turned to face him. "I command you to act as you would normally around Castle Volkihar. You are not to arouse anyone's suspicions."

Garan gave a curt nod and replied, "Of course." He then turned and made to leave the cathedral.

"Oh and Garan," he called. The Dunmer vampire stopped at the doors and faced him again. "You were right. There is only one lord of the castle," he said smugly, walking over to him and staring him straight in his eyes. "And it will be me."

Night had fallen, and Commander Maro raced across the river, his horse plunging through the water. His horse was panting from the strain but he urged it on anyway. He _would_ catch up to the prisoner and restore his good name; ever since his son had been murdered and supposedly exposed as a traitor to the Empire, although Maro knew this was untrue, he had found that almost everything in his life wasn't worth living for. Except for two things: the Empire and his honour. And he would not disappoint either.

"Hurry up, men," he yelled, turning back to his troops. He then faced back, in the direction he was going, and then yanked on his reins. The horse shrieked in pain and shuddered to a halt. Behind Maro, his twenty men also shuddered to a halt. The reason that he had stopped was because in front of him stood a Nord man. Maro immediately had an uneasy feeling in his stomach. There was no reasonable explanation for why he felt this way but he was not a man to distrust a hunch when he got one, he knew that the Nord in front of him was trouble.

"What are you doing alone at night on the road, stranger," Maro called out to him.

The Nord smiled, showing gleaming white teeth. "I am waiting for my friends," the Nord replied. "They fell behind and I am hoping that they won't be too long."

Maro nodded noticing that the man was dressed very richly. He was wearing strange armour and a waist-length red cape. The Nord had an aura of authority and power about him that Maro could not place, but he assumed the man was a leader of some kind.

"Ah," the man suddenly said, grinning widely, "My friends are here."

An Altmer and another Nord appeared out of the darkness, as if they had simply been there all along and had now become visible. The two newcomers wore similar armour to the first man but they lacked capes.

"And now, if I may," the leader said politely, "What are you doing on the road at this time?"

Maro saw no harm in telling the man, it was official business after all and the man may have met the intruders on the path.

"We're chasing after a vampire that escaped from our dungeons. It was helped by a group of intruders who broke into the palace at Solitude and rescued it. You haven't seen any vampires on your travels have you?" Maro asked hopefully.

"Why, I'm afraid not," the man began in a silky voice. "What about you Vingalmo?" he continued to the man beside him. "Did you happen to see any vampires?"

"I'm afraid not," the Altmer replied with a smirk. "But, out of interest, what did the vampire look like? Orthjolf there might have seen this vampire of yours while he was gazing at the pretty flowers," he continued snarkily.

"You fucking elf!" the other Nord said and pulled his axe from his sheath.

"Enough!" the first Nord said and instantly the other two stopped bickering.

"Well, to answer your question," Maro said carefully, "the vampire is a female, with long black hair and dressed in strange armour. In fact, armour similar to yours…" Maro suddenly broke off as the three men stared at him. Their eyes flashed orange and Maro suddenly realised that he had made a huge mistake.

"_Where do you think they are heading?_" the leader of the trio said, his voice lowered to an ominous whisper.

"You… you're vampires," Maro choked out, his hand drawing his sword. "You're going to have to lay down your weapons and prepare for questioning in relation to the incident at Solitude."

"Oh, there will be some _questioning,_" the vampire leader said. "But it won't be from you." Then the man suddenly yelled in triumph and began to tear at his skin. Maro watched in horror as darkness wrapped around the vampire, obscuring him from sight, before blasting outwards in a shower of blood. When Maro saw what the man had transformed into he felt the deepest terror that he had ever known. Hovering a few inches off the ground was a grey-skinned monstrosity, all fangs and claws, with red magic circling its right hand. The thing shrieked and launched a ball of energy straight at Maro. He threw himself off his horse and landed heavily on the ground, the ball of light just missing him. However it impacted against three men behind him and Maro watched in horror as the soldiers dissolved as the magic pulled their life force from them.

The other two vampires ran into the crowd of soldiers. The burly Nord wielded a massive steel axe like it weighed nothing, slicing his men apart. The other, the Altmer, blasted two men off their horses with dual-wielded thunderbolts. The monster also threw itself into the fray, tearing his men apart and biting them savagely, ripping apart their throats. Maro knew that his men were lost and ran away from the fight. He didn't know where he was going, anywhere, anywhere but here. He ran back to the river, hoping that the water would somehow deter the vampire. He barely made it halfway back before he realised that it was quiet. His men had stopped screaming. He glanced around into the night, desperately hoping that the vampires had moved on.

Then a hand clasped onto his shoulder from behind and Maro was thrown into the air. He screamed as he came down, into the waiting arms of the monster that had murdered his men. "You are mine!" the monster roared, with the silky voice of the Nord that had disappeared into the shadow. Maro screamed as the thing clamped its fangs into his throat, agony overtaking his mind, and darkness followed soon after.

Vingalmo watched as Harkon devoured the mortal that he gripped in his arms. He knew that his lord was not merely killing the man, but absorbing all his memory through his blood. He licked blood off his lips and tasted the young Imperial woman that he had drunk from. She had barely reached her twenties, evidently a warrior prodigy to have reached the elite ranks of the Emperor's personal guard. However not good enough to stop him from taking everything from her. He smiled at the taste in his mouth before focusing back on Harkon. His lord had dropped the man's corpse and was returning back to his human form. Vingalmo was glad of this; it was hard to converse with the massive, hulking Vampire Lord form than it was to talk to Harkon in his normal appearance.

"The Commander has shown me where Serana, and therefore my Elder Scroll, is," Harkon said quickly, looking at Vingalmo and Orthjolf. "It appears that she has fled in the direction of Whiterun. We will find up to her, we will kill this irritable Dragonborn and if he is with them, I am going to… _ask_ Croel exactly why he has failed to bring her to me. And it will be a conversation that he will not like the ending to." Harkon then ran off into the night, Vingalmo and Orthjolf following, eager to find his daughter and to recover the Elder Scroll.

_I will complete this Prophecy, no matter who stands in my way._

**Sorry that it has taken me so long to update but I hope the wait was worth it. Harkon is back! He is finally rejoining the narrative. I hope you will review this chapter, constructive criticism would be great, and I hope that you are still enjoying the story. I would be interested if you can guess who the traitor is in the Volkihar clan (sorry Garan) and I wonder how the meeting with the Greybeards will go for Serana…**


	22. Conflict on the Plains

Geiric paced the stolen horse over the plains of Whiterun, swaying with the movement of the horse as he did so. The horse he rode was of good Skyrim stock; hardy, strong and durable, however it was not a patch on Frost. He wondered where his old horse was now; he had given it to Lokil to so that the vampire could make swift progress to the College of Winterhold but now he felt small twinges of regret towards his earlier decision. Geiric had grown used to the cream coloured horse and he hated the thought of not knowing where Frost was. Geiric turned around in his saddle to face the rest of the members of his little group. The horses had naturally formed into a single line and Rollof was bringing up the rear, wearing his brown cloak over his steel armour to shelter himself from the biting cold wind that was whistling over the flat land of the Hold. Geiric was unsure what to make of Rollof's intentions towards the undead members of the group; Rollof had only joined with Geiric because he wanted to find the vampires that had burnt down his home in Dragon Bridge. Now that they had found them, and they claimed to have nothing to do with the fire, Geiric found himself wondering if Rollof believed them. If he did not then his need for vengeance may cloud his thoughts one day and Rollof's honour would force him to kill the vampires. Geiric hoped it would not come to that; he liked the Nord, and he did not want their journey together to end on a sour note.

Next, Geiric turned his attention towards Croel. He was riding in front of Rollof and behind Serana, and his burning orange eyes immediately flickered towards Geiric's own, glaring at him. Geiric kept his eyes focused on Croel's and they merely appraised each other, as they had been doing ever since they had met just outside of Dragon Bridge, when Croel had held a sword to Rollof's throat. The memory of the incident still echoed in his mind, and in his head he replayed their fight in his head, recreating every clash of their swords and strikes of their Destruction magic in his head. He knew that Croel was very dangerous but that short battle was not enough to tell him how lethal he was. Geiric liked to be prepared; he wanted to know his enemies inside out before he faced them and, apart from the usual vampire weaknesses, he was dubious as to the vampire's abilities. Croel gave him a small, mocking wave and Geiric shifted his attention from him to Serana.

She was riding directly behind him and was wearing a hood across her face to shelter herself against the rays of the Sun so he could barely make out her features. Geiric was also conflicted in his thoughts about her. On the one hand she seemed to be just a normal young woman, intelligent and undoubtedly extremely beautiful, but even after travelling with her for a few days, Geiric still sensed that she carried a weight on her shoulders, a weight that had been intensified, but not caused by, the death of her friend, Vireni. Serana occasionally muttered a spell under her breath and a green light spilled from her fingers, but then nothing happened. After watching her do this for a few minutes, he reined in his horse, until her horse was trotting beside his. "What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

Serana, without bothering to look at him, replied, "It's nothing that would interest you, just a spell that I'm trying to cast."

"Try me."

Serana released the spell again and sighed when it failed. "It's just a stupid spell, nothing to be concerned about."

Geiric was definitely becoming more intrigued. "Tell me, I won't make fun."

Serana arched a thin eyebrow before replying, "I want to cast a spell that will conjure a quill and parchment out of thin air."

"Why? I have all those things with me, in a bag tied to my horse, you could ask for some if you wanted them," Geiric said.

"I don't need them," Serana said, her eyes flashing dangerously, "I just want to be able to cast the spell."

"Why?" Geiric asked, more confused than before and starting to wish he hadn't started the conversation.

"Because, mighty Dragonborn," a smug voice said from behind him. Geiric frowned and turned to see Croel riding closer to them, "She watched me cast the spell in Dimhollow Crypt and I said then that she would be unable to cast it, as it requires-"

"As it requires intelligence and focus," Serana finished off, eyes narrowed at the vampire. He merely smiled back at her, revealing his prominent fangs.

"Cast the spell," Geiric said.

Croel looked at him, still smiling. "As you wish Dragonborn," he said before raising his hand. Green light spilled from between his fingers, and when the light cut off, a quill and a piece of parchment was lying in his hands. Croel grinned triumphantly towards Serana who grimaced and turned away in disgust. Croel handed her the items but she snarled and broke the quill and tore the parchment in half. "Oh, Serana, don't let your temper get the better of-"

Croel was cut off by the sight of green light spilling from the fingers of Geiric. He watched, unamused, as Geiric also conjured a quill and parchment. Serana looked at the conjured items, with an unreadable expression on her face. Then she pulled away from the two men and rode off further into the distance. Croel and Geiric looked at each other, then at the woman riding away from them.

"Should I-" Geiric began.

"Best not to," Croel interrupted, pre-empting his question. "She can handle herself, she knows where we are going and I will not let her out of my sight."

"You've know her long?" Geiric queried.

"For a millennia, although she disappeared for most of it. Thanks to her mother," Croel explained.

"Ah. Valerica," Geiric said without thinking.

"How do you know that name?" Croel questioned, his gaze now fully focused on Geiric and not on Serana.

"I have my sources," Geiric said evasively.

Croel's lower lip curled slightly in anger but her let it go. "How informed you are," he remarked.

"Quite. Except there is something I do not understand. You said to Serana that you were older than either her of her father. How is it that you are not the leader of the Volkihars then? From what I understand, vampires only get more powerful as they get older. If Harkon is younger than you, why is he leading the court?"

"A question that I asked myself every day," Croel murmured quietly.

"_Asked_?"

"Until I realised that the Volkihar Court was full of only sycophants and an insane dictator. Then I knew that the clan was merely a means to an end, a stepping stone if you will, to my greater goal."

"And what goal would that be?" Geiric asked, his hand drifting towards the hilt of his sword.

"An excellent question that has a long, impressive and convoluted answer. A shame that you will never find out," Croel said sweetly, fangs once more visible. "However to answer your earlier question as to why Harkon is ruling the court, it is because he inherited his powers right from the hand of Molag Bal himself. I did not. It is that simple."

"So if you hate the Court so much, why have you stayed there for so long?"

Croel was about to reply when he suddenly frowned, looking forwards. Geiric turned his head around to the front and immediately knew why the vampire was frowning.

Serana had vanished.

Nelacar conjured yet another flame to keep himself warm from the biting cold of mountains near Winterhold. Orthorn swiftly huddled closer to the older Altmer but Nelacar snorted and shoved Orthorn away. "Now that you have incentive to learn this simple spell, maybe you will do it successfully this time!" Nelacar said sternly. "Conjuring the flame is easy, any idiot can do that. But maintaining it and making sure it doesn't burn your hand off, now there's where the real skill comes into it." The young mage looked wounded at his teacher before focusing his magicka into creating a flame. Nelacar watched as his student attempted for several seconds to conjure one, before snorting once again before pacing forwards slightly in order to walk beside Delphine. The three had been trekking across the mountains for hours now and the cosy, if run down town of Winterhold was far to the North of their position.

Delphine wanted the group to make it to Sky Haven Temple before the week was up, so she kept up a brutal pace. Normally it would take any sane person about two days to walk from Winterhold to Whiterun Hold across the mountain ranges. She aimed to do it in one. The pace did not affect her, but she was slightly concerned about the hardiness of the two elven mages behind her. So far only Orthorn had complained about the pace, but then Orthorn complained about everything; she had no idea how Nelacar could have put up with him for so long without drawing a blade across his throat. The very thought of doing made her lips twitch upward slightly, but then the thought quickly vanished and her lips dropped down into their usual dower position. "Delphine," she heard Nelacar call from behind her and she sighed, allowing him to catch up to her. "I was thinking that maybe we should not go to this Sky Haven Temple of yours right away," he said, a small flame held in his hands. Delphine merely glanced at him and frowned. "Now before you refuse my idea completely, hear me out," Nelacar said swiftly, seeing Delphine's expression. "If you want to find the Dragonborn so badly, then wouldn't it be best to stop off at Whiterun first. The city is at the centre of Skyrim and everyone knows that everything in Skyrim passes through Whiterun. Maybe there could be someone there who knows of Geiric's whereabouts," Nelacar said.

Delphine appraised the elf, then nodded her head. "It's a good idea, one that I should have thought of. Geiric is the Thane of Whiterun so hopefully Jarl Balgruuf may have a vague suggestion of where he might be."

Nelacar, glad to have made a contribution to Delphine's plans smiled at her, before glancing back at his apprentice. The smile instantly dropped as he realised that Orthorn had still failed to conjure a single flame. Nelacar almost decided to let Orthorn join him and get some warmth in Orthorn's body from his flame, but decided against it. A little suffering never hurt a mage's apprentice. "Tell me something Delphine," Nelacar asked, turning back to the Blade Grandmaster. "Who is Malkoran?"

Delphine considered his question for a while, before replying, "Malkoran is an extremely powerful Breton Necromancer who has lived in Skyrim since the last decade. He has been terrorising Skyrim for at least five years and he has a personal vendetta against Meridia. However in the last year, he seems to have lessened his attack upon Skyrim and I honestly have no idea what he is up to or where he is. However, if Malkoran is targeting you then your life has taken a dangerous turn. I do not know what he wants with your apprentice for but if he finds him then what he might do to him in _this _life is the least of his worries."

Nelacar stared at her and he heard Orthorn breathe in sharply. Nelacar turned to see the young elf staring at Delphine. He had gone very pale.

"Of course we don't know that he is after you Orthorn," Nelacar said quickly, trying to comfort him, "that Redguard mage may have been referring to me. He did say that he wanted the Altmer mage, and we both fit that category."

"Yeah, but have you spent any time in Fellglow Keep?" Orthorn shouted, storming towards Nelacar, his hand open and, to Nelacar, still threatening. "Have you had any necromancers pouring over you, wanting to open you up and experiment upon you? I have! And I killed those necromancers, with the help of the Dragonborn, and now it's obvious that Malkoran wants to take revenge upon me," Orthorn yelled, his face inches from Nelacar's.

Nelacar tried his hardest not to laugh out loud when Orthorn said that he had killed the Necromancers. His apprentice couldn't best anything, let alone a group of malevolent mages. "Well that is true," he said to a steaming Orthorn, "however on the brighter side, you managed to conjure and maintain a flame." Orthorn glanced down at the flame that burned merrily in his hands. He yelped and the flame disappeared instantly as his concentration was broken. "I have decided to make another amendment to the plan," Delphine said suddenly. The two mages turned to face her and she continued, "I want to see this, Fellglow Keep, you keep mentioning, Orthorn. If the Necromancers that worked there were in contact with Malkoran then there may be a clue as to his current location. Could you lead us to the fort, Orthorn?" Orthorn looked at Nelacar, who just shrugged, before nodding his head at the Breton woman. "Good," she replied then carried on, trudging across the snow-covered ground.

Movarth walked through the tunnels that used to hold the vampire outcasts that made up his clan. Now though, after the Dragonborn had slaughtered his way through his home, only he broke the silence of the caves that had become his brethren's tomb. Movarth came across the corpse of Beem-Ja and sighed, looking down at the Argonian's eyes that would no longer see anything anymore. _He had been a good _quartermaster, he thought, _and a better _friend. Movarth stopped in the massive cavern that made up his dining hall, littered with the corpses of his friends, his family. He knew that when he was slain, his body wouldn't be preserved like his followers. He would crumble to ash, as he had strayed too far down his dark path and wallowed in too much blood. There would be no remains of Movarth Piquine, the once famed vampire hunter. He was so good at his job that he could teach the Dawnguard a few lessons about hunting vampires. However, he would not of course.

Movarth made his way to the guest rooms where Serana and Vireni had stayed. He rembered being ordered to spy on them, in order to steal the Elder Scroll. _Serana had a lovely body_, Movarth thought suddenly, remembering watching her undress to get ready for bed. _Real nice tits_, he thought, grinning savagely. Then he moved on to the room that Croel had inhabited. _Croel_, he hissed in his mind. The vampire who had led the Dragonborn to his home, the vampire who caused the deaths of his clan. He wondered if Croel had done it deliberately; if he wanted the Dragonborn to follow him to Movarth's lair just to pay him back for some slight that Movarth had made centuries ago. That was the difference between him and Croel, he did not hold grudges for long. Maybe a few months, a year if it was something serious, but if he didn't get his revenge then he forgot about it. Life was too short, in his opinion, even for a vampire to be wasting time getting everyone back for every small thing. Croel however, he never forgot. He could hold a grudge for centuries, and he would always avenge whatever small conflict that he had with the person. If Croel did deliberately bring the Dragonborn here then it was probably because Movarth had insulted him once, three hundred years ago.

He wondered how Croel and Serana, and that other vampire whose name he could not remember, were getting on. The last time he had seen them, they were fleeing from the wrath of the Dragonborn. He wondered if the Dragonborn had caught up with the group. Movarth wondered if he cared either way. Then he realised that he did. He realised that even if the Dragonborn exacted a horrible punishment upon Croel, a thought that made Movarth grin with delight, it wouldn't be worth it; because the beautiful woman who had enchanted his heart deserved to live and live a long, happy life. _Wait, what?_ Movarth thought, stopping suddenly. _Where had that come from?_ Movarth stopped walking. Why was he thinking these thoughts about a girl he had only met once, and briefly? He tried to get it out of his mind but found that he could not. Unsure as to what to do, he walked outside of the tunnels, nestling just within the entrance of the cave so as not to be hurt by the rays of the Sun. _I wonder if Serana's alright,_ Movarth thought anxiously. Suddenly, five figures walked into his line of sight. Movarth stepped back into his cave, hiding from view. He could sense that the figures were vampires and even though he was also a vampire, he did not trust them. The figures stopped and conferred with each other. Then one of them pointed at his cave entrance. Movarth froze as the vampires walked towards his lair; he was not expecting visitors. "What do you want?" Movarth called out to them. The vampires stopped suddenly and peered into the gloom of the cave, not realising that Movarth had been watching them the entire time.

"Is that Movarth Piquine, master of the group of vampires residing in Morthal, General of the Master?" asked the lead vampire.

"Obviously," Movarth replied, rolling his eyes. They knew it was him, this was just a formality. "Who sent you here?" he asked.

"General Croel," the lead vampire said, the other vampires fanning out around him, two on either side of the speaker. Movarth's keen eyes were drawn to their hands that were reaching for hidden weapons. Movarth sighed inaudibly and prepared himself. "He wishes you a fond farewell," the vampire snarled then launched an ice spike at Movarth. Movarth ducked underneath it as the other vampires all drew swords. "You're all idiots," Movarth said calmly. Then he raised his hands, and, using telekinesis he ripped the black robes from two of the vampires. They screamed as the rays of the Sun came into contact with their unprotected skin. They started to smoke and within a few seconds, disintegrated into small piles of ash. The remaining three vampires stared at their comrades before facing Movarth again. Two of them charged at him and he repeated the action, tearing the black robes off them and watching calmly as they died a horrible, agonizing death. The last vampire, the leader, fell to his knees and begged Movarth for his life. "Come to me," Movarth hissed and the man did so, stumbling and murmuring for the elder vampire to spare his life. Movarth's lips curled in disgust as the vampire finally made his way over to him. "Now," he said, gripping the vampire by the throat and lifting him off the ground, "tell me who really sent you, or what happened to your friends will happen to you."

The vampire sneered at Movarth and closed his mouth deliberately, and to Movarth, irritatingly. Hissing, Movarth removed one of the vampire's sleeves and held the vampires bare arm out of the protection of the cave mouth and into the bright sunlight. The vampire screamed as his flesh blackened and smoked. His screams went on for about thirty seconds before Movarth pulled his arms back into the cave mouth. Movarth then stared the vampire. "Do I have to repeat myself," he eventually murmured, looking pointedly at the vampire's already, healing arm.

The vampire looked at Movarth in horror before gasping, "Malkoran ordered us to kill you."

"_Malkoran_?" Movarth gaped. "Why?"

"He said that you had outlived your usefulness and that it was time for him to become the one and only General of the Master's armies."

"The one and _only_ General? Wait, what about Croel; has Malkoran sent his minions after him as well?" Movarth said, clenching his hand tighter around the vampire's throat.

"Yes, they've nearly found them. When I last communicated with them, they were in the planes of Whiterun and they had caught their scent," the vampire managed to splutter out.

_Serana!_ Movarth thought, the blood in his veins turning to ice. He didn't give a fuck about Croel, but he knew now that he had to find Serana and save her. Glaring at the vampire in his grip, he tore off the man's hood before throwing him out of the cave, watching in grim satisfaction as the vampire burned to death.

Isran glared in abject fury at the wagon's broken wheel. The Dawnguard had marched from Riften days ago, their mules and wagons laden with the Dawnguard's provisions and the bombs that Sorine Jurard had designed. He had ordered his men to carry their own weapons and armour in order for there to be more space for the bombs and food, a decision which hadn't gained him much popularity with his group. _Good job I'm not here to make friends then_¸ Isran thought severely, looking down at the broken wheel. The Dawnguard had just entered the Hjaalmarch Hold after a long and weary trek across Skyrim's terrain. Isran watched as Gunmar and Celann strolled over towards him. "What's the situation," Isran demanded of Celann.

"The wheel has to be replaced and at the moment we don't have one," Celann explained calmly. "We would have to go to the nearest lumber mill, place an order and hope that they can do the job quickly. Then we would have to redistribute the supplies in order to make sure this does not happen again. It will most likely set us back a few days."

"Unacceptable," Isran said immediately and Gunmar nodded his head fervently in agreement.

"There is nothing else we can do, _sir_," Celann said insubordinately.

Isran narrowed his eyes at Celann. "I have just thought of a solution to the problem," Isran said, eyes gleaming cruelly. "Celann, as you are clearly capable of taking care of this unfortunate incident, I leave you in charge of fixing it. Three men will remain behind to help you and no more. The main force will press on and you can return to us when the wagon hads been fixed."

"But Isran," Celann argued, "that will mean that we will miss the glory of destroying the fiends' home."

"Not if you hurry," Isran said, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Then he turned away from his two senior commanders and began shouting orders to the rest of the men. Celann cursed Isran under his breath.

"Do not worry friend," Gunmar said, clapping a hand onto Celann's back, "no doubt Isran will spend ages once we arrive at Castle Volkihar to decide how to breach the defences. You will make it to us well before any fighting starts."

Celann nodded appreciatively at Gunmar's kind words but as the hulking Nord walked off to join the rest of the group, he went back to glowering at Isran. _One day, Isran may be in need of friends,_ he thought,_ and if he continues to treat people like he is, then he may find that his list of allies is very short indeed._

Ronthil edged his way into Feran Sadri's laboratory, on the ground floor of Castle Volkihar. The Bosmer vampire licked his lips nervously as he passed through dining hall where the rest of the Court were feasting upon the delectable thralls that Rargal had prepared for them. Ronthil's mouth filled with saliva at the thought of biting into the soft, juicy flesh of a young Nord woman but he knew his place. The other vampires would not let him drink his fill of blood until they had finished first.

He entered Feran's workshop after having first endured the sickening, crimson smile of Fura as she bit into a Redguard man, staring at him all the while. She treated him like prey and he had to accept it; there was no way he could beat her, or any of the other members of the court in a straight fight, so he was relegated to doing errands for the more important vampires of the court, just like he was doing now.

Ronthil saw Feran bent over his alchemy station, mumbling his thoughts aloud as he furiously wrote in a notebook. Ronthil waited in the doorway, hoping that Feran was not in the middle of another long experiment. The last time Ronthil had interrupted Feran in the middle of an experiment; the alchemist had lost his concentration and ruined his results. In a fit of rage, Feran had jabbed a scalpel through Ronthil's right thumb and slashed it along his leg. It was a miracle that the blade had missed the femoral artery and not killed him outright. Feran had never apologised and Ronthil had never interrupted him in the middle of an experiment again. That had been over fifty years ago.

After ten minutes, Feran looked up from the alchemy table, squinting around the room before his eyes finally rested on a petal of nightshade. He moved towards it eagerly, picking it up and carrying it back to the alchemy table. He was about to continue with his work when he heard a small cough behind him. Feran rolled his eyes in frustration as he recognised the voice. "What is it now, Ronthil?" he demanded, dropping the flower onto his table and turning to face the unwelcome presence in his doorway.

"Garan Marethi has ordered me to ask you to join him in the cathedral, sir," Ronthil said swiftly, bowing his head and keeping his eyes firmly pointed at the floor in respect.

"Why has he summoned me?" Feran asked, irritated, "and to the cathedral of all places?"

"He did not share that information with me, sir."

Feran hissed in frustration before plodding out of his workshop, Ronthil remaining behind in his workshop. He hoped that the irritant did not touch anything. Feran nodded politely to Fura and Hestla who were gorging themselves on the thralls, neither bothering to return his nod. Feran scowled. He missed Lord Harkon, Vingalmo and even Orthjolf. At least when they were around, he and his work was more respected; Harkon and Vingalmo, if not Orthjolf, understood the importance of his work. Whilst Garan Marethi was a good temporary leader, and a friend of Feran's, no one feared Garan liked they feared Harkon. And so, in their lord's first absence of the Castle in thousands of years, the Court was starting to get unruly. Feran Sadri did not like it, and Garan was doing nothing to stop it. He had been acting very strangely over the last few weeks, Ferana had thought; he had become more subdued and isolated himself in his chambers, away from the other vampires. And now Feran was to meet him in the cathedral? No one ever went in there, apart from Harkon. It was too… _unsettling_, even for callous vampires like the ones residing in the castle. The shrine to Molag Bal was not something a sane man would pray to.

Pushing the great cathedral doors open with some care, Feran stepped inside of the large, cavernous room. He immediately saw Garan's shape standing by the shrine that dripped with blood. Swallowing nervously, not because of his friend, but due to the eeriness that permeated the room, Feran shut the doors behind him and made his way along the stone floor to where Garan Marethi was standing.

"You wanted to see me, Garan?" Feran said, his voice juxtaposing the oppressive stillness of the room.

"I did," Garan replied, his voice monotone. "My lord has need of your services, however he is not sure that you are ready to give them yet."

"Lord Harkon has been in contact with you? And he has a task for me?" Feran asked excitedly, swelling up with pride. "Of course I will be able to offer my services; I am as ready as I will ever be." Feran waited for Garan to respond but all the other Dunmer did was turn around slowly. Feran noticed that Garan was holding an orb in his left hand. A black orb.

However what Feran did not see, was Garan's right hand that was pressed behind his back. And what Feran also did not see, was the dagger gripped in that right hand. But he did feel it, merely a second after Feran's eyes had shifted to the orb gripped in his left hand. The dagger flicked upwards and a thin line appeared across the alchemist's throat. Feran gaped and tried to cry for help, but already his vision was darkening and he collapsed.

Quickly, Garan rested the orb on Feran's chest and placed the man's hands onto the orb. Garan chanted an incantation and shadow, mixed with a purplish light, poured from the orb into Feran's chest. Garan slumped as a bug portion of his magicka was used up in powering the spell. He was successful however, and moments later Feran Sadri's eyes opened once again.

"You serve a new master," Garan said simply; however he knew that the words were unnecessary. The power of the Master flowed through both of the twice-undead vampires and Feran, though recently… _converted_, would instantly know the Master's will.

"Can you do it?" Garan asked him. "Can you make the potion the Master requires?"

Feran looked blankly over Garan's shoulder as he contemplated the request.

"If anyone can do it, you can," Garan said.

"Of course I can," Feran snapped back at him, a hint of his old arrogance in his voice. "Not many alchemists could of course. Not even Babette has the skills I possess."

Garan nodded, confident in Feran's abilities.

"Though getting all the ingredients requires time and patience," Feran said warningly.

"The Master thought this might be the case and he is content, assuming that you do not use

up too much time," Garan said.

Feran nodded stiffly and began to make his way out of the cathedral.

"Could you do one thing for me before you leave," Garan called out to him.

Feran turned and faced him, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Send Fura to me," Garan said, grinning malevolently.

Rollof galloped his horse after the Dragonborn and Croel, as the two men in front of him glanced at each other before racing off towards the horizon. Rollof wondered what they were doing but he followed them unquestioningly. He was sure that they would tell him eventually.

"Why the fuck didn't you keep an eye on her!" Geiric yelled at Croel, as their horses pounded forwards at a furious pace. Out of the corner of his eye, Geiric saw Rollof following them.

"I was too busy answering your inane questions!" Croel yelled back. The two riders were scanning the horizon desperately, urging their horses to the place where they had last seen Serana.

"You're saying that you can't multitask?" Croel asked derogatively.

Croel hissed in anger and his eyes flashed a dangerous colour. The horses were starting to froth at being pushed so hard after a long journey but the two Nords didn't let up. They were racing over grasslands and shallow hills; they could see Whiterun in the distance and Geiric was about to suggest casting a spell for detecting the dead when he heard a roar and a flash of light from his left. Geiric immediately wheeled his horse around and Croel followed suit. They both knew what creature had made the fearsome roar, a usually peaceful denizen of Skyrim that, when roused, was a terrifying sight to behold, and something that Geiric knew he should have predicted they would encounter.

When Geiric rose over the small hill that the flashes of light were coming from his blood froze. Serana was trying to fend off two giants with just her magic and a dagger. Serana's horse had been killed, its neck broken and she was launching a flurry of ice spikes at the giants at a furious rate, causing them to raise their arms to cover their faces so that their eyes would not get pierced by the deadly strikes. However, Serana could only focus on one giant at a time, and whenever she attacked one, the other came closer. Finally one of the giants managed to reach her, his club was raised high above the ground. It roared before slamming the club down upon the ground. Only Serana's superior reflexes granted to her by her vampiric powers saved her from a second death. However she was shaken off her feet by the shockwave caused by the giant's massive blow and she could do nothing to stop the second giant lumbering towards her and also swinging its club towards her.

_No! Not again, I will not let it happen again,_ Geiric thought before his instinct took over.

"_FUS RO DAH_!" Geiric yelled and the giant was blown backwards off its feet. Serana was also caught in the blast, but not to the same drastic effect; instead she tumbled to the floor, just as she was about to stand up.

"Oh, she's going to love you for that," Rollof said from behind Geiric's shoulder. Geiric turned and glared at him, hissing "help Serana," before racing off after Croel, who had run to the remaining upright giant as soon as Geiric had Shouted. Croel pulled an ebony sword from its sheath and flipped over the giant's club racing towards him. He slashed the sword across the giant's torso, eliciting a deep gash. The giant roared and swung his hand at Croel who ducked under it and blasted a thunderbolt spell into the giant's face. Geiric, sensing an opportunity, yelled at Rollof to help Serana before Shouting "_Yol!_" Flames washed over the giant's face. It didn't hurt it much but it provided an excellent distraction for Croel, who cut the giant's hamstrings with one swipe of his sword. The giant cried out in pain, before crashing to the ground, unable to walk.

Geiric was going to continue attacking it when Croel bellowed, "Leave it!" Geiric turned and saw that the giant that had been blown away from the force of his first Shout had got back to its feet and was thundering towards them. Croel's hand wreathed itself in purple magic before conjuring a lumbering ice atronauch. However the giant had already reached them and with a roar of anger it crashed its massive club onto the atronauch, which exploded into shards of ice.

"Well that was effective," Geiric said to Croel, raising an eyebrow.

Serana picked herself up, cursing Geiric in her mind. She was tired of being the one who was rescued. She had been rescued from a crypt by Croel, rescued from the Blue Palace by Geiric, Croel and Rollof and now the Dragonborn had saved her _again_. Well she was tired. The sun was in her eyes, she was thirsty and she could see Rollof running towards her.

Her body was aching and she was very thirsty,

She had a cut running down the side of her face, oozing out blood.

_Blood_.

Rollof reached her and she lunged for his neck. He cried out and tried to get an arm in between them but she was too strong and desperate. She flipped him over her hip and as he slammed down onto the ground she latched herself onto him. Her fangs pierced his neck and his blood gushed into her salivating mouth.

She could taste power in his blood. Extraordinary amounts of magicka in his veins. _He must be a latent mage, and a powerful one_, she thought as she gulped. She would not take much, just what she needed. Rollof was weakly trying to shove her off but she easily held him down. _Just a little more_.

Serana was hurled off her feet when a hand gripped her shoulders and pushed her off Rollof. "What are you doing Serana?" Croel's voice shouted angrily. Serana tried to respond but there was too much blood in her mouth. She looked over his shoulder and saw that Geiric was still fighting the first giant. "We need to help him," she brusquely, ignoring Croel's burning gaze and refusing to look at Rollof. The Breton was still conscious and he was looking at her with hatred in his eyes. "You've done enough Serana," Croel said. "And anyway, he does not want your help."

"What do you mean by that," Serana snapped at him.

"He does not like women who fight," Croel replied.

Serana narrowed her eyes in anger and pushed past Croel, walking with cold fury to where the Dragonborn was fighting.

Geiric slashed his sword across the giant's torso to little effect. In return the giant swiped at him with a massive hand which he just managed to duck. Suddenly a barrage of ice spikes lashed into the giant from behind. The giant roared, beginning to turn, and Geiric thrust his sword into its stomach, causing it to turn its attention to him again. He saw Serana jump and he watched her reach a height no normal human could before she landed on the giant's back. Geiric was gripped with fear. _She can't handle it, _he thought, _she'll die_.

Serana gritted her teeth as she clambered up the giants back and reached its head. Swiftly she pulled out her elven dagger and plunged it to the hilt into one of the giant's eyes. The giant stopped completely and collapsed to the ground, its final breath rattling from its body. She jumped neatly off the giant and put her dagger back in its sheath. She looked at Geiric triumphantly but he just wiped his blade on the grass before walking to his horse. Serana glared at his back and stormed after him.

"What is your problem with women who fight?" Serana demanded, reaching him as he began getting onto his horse.

"It's unnatural," he replied before riding towards Croel and Rollof who was still lying in the grass.

Serana had never been so angry before, not even at her parents. She ran after Geiric, easily keeping pace with his trotting horse.

"What happened?" Geiric asked when he saw the blood on Rollof's shirt.

"The bitch bit me, that's what happened!" Rollof yelled.

Geiric turned to face her and Serana nearly killed him at the look in his eyes.

"You do not get to judge me you bastard," Serana hissed. "I was without blood for days, it was just an instinct. In case you haven't noticed, I am a vampire."

"I'm a vampire as well Serana. It seems my fears were valid, you cannot control yourself," Croel said in a reproachful manner.

"You're wrong."

"The gaping wound in my neck kind of defeats your point there, you undead cunt."

"You do not speak to me like that you pathetic mortal," Serana snapped at Rollof.

Geiric was about to try and end the argument when he felt a chill run down his spine. He looked behind him and saw twenty five vampires with hoods standing there with their weapons drawn.

"Look behind!" Geiric yelled at the rest of his group. The urgency in his voice cut off their argument and they turned. Croel immediately pulled out his ebony blade from its sheath and Serana's hands began glowing.

"For the glory of Movarth, who wills your death," one of the vampires said. Then they all charged at them. Three of them loosed ice spikes, one of which imbedded itself into Geiric's sword arm. He hissed in pain but managed to raise his sword to block the first vampire's swing. He kicked out at the vampire then threw a firebolt at another one. The vampire managed to raise a ward however and the bolt ricocheted off. Geiric heard a bowstring twang and an arrow flew and pierced Serana in the side. Two vampires lunged at Rollof and he went down, cursing and screaming. Geiric Shouted "_FUS RO DAH!" _and the vampires were blown off of him, however Rollof had received many injuries and he was losing blood rapidly. He turned to face back to the rest of the vampires but one of them lunged at him, stabbing a dagger into his torso.

Croel heard Geiric yell in pain but he ignored it. He was too busy dealing with the vampires in front of him. There were five of them facing him and that made him smile. At least they knew of his reputation. Two vampires tried to drain his life with a spell but he contemptuously loosed two thunderbolts in their direction, blasting one in the chest, the other one narrowly managing to duck out the way.

The three other vampires ran at him and he ran straight down the middle of them. He picked up a nearby rock on the floor with telekinesis and launched it at the vampire on the right's head. The vampire was struck and his skull ruptured at the force behind the rock. Croel parried a sword aiming for his head, quickly parried the other vampire's sword and flipped over their heads. He swiftly swept his sword behind him and heard the two vampire's heads land on the grass with a soft thud. Croel launched two thunderbolts simultaneously at the one vampire left and they blasted him off his feet. Croel looked around and saw that Geiric had managed to take down three and Serana had killed two. Croel realised that the fight was only the first wave. There were still fifteen vampires left and their red eyes were filled with menace. Geiric had been injured, Serana looked exhausted and Rollof was still on the ground, barely conscious. Croel gripped the hilt of his sword and glared at his foes.

_There is too many of them, there is no way that_ _I can defeat all of them and protect Serana at the same time. This is madness! _Croel thought.

And then a voice replied in his mind, "_My speciality."_

Croel heard a soft sound and then five daggers appeared in five vampiric throats. The rest of the vampires cried out in shock. A man in an absurd costume was standing on the shoulders of the giant whose hamstrings Croel had cut but who was still very much alive. The giant roared in anger and tried to shake the man off but he balanced on its shoulders, giggling and throwing daggers at the enemy vampires. The daggers struck with unnerving accuracy and five more vampires fell.

The last five vampires began to turn and run but Croel blasted two of them with thunderbolts. Geiric Shouted "_YOL TOOR SHUL!_" and the three retreating vampires crumbled into ash. Geiric immediately ran to Rollof to heal him but Croel did not care if the Breton lived or died. Instead he stalked over to the man who had saved him.

"Who in Oblivion are you?" Croel asked.

The man laughed merrily and stabbed the giant he was standing on in the throat and flipped neatly off its shoulders as it died.

"Why just a common jester who loves his Mother very much," the man giggled.

"But the voices in my head call me Cicero."


	23. The Thane of Solitude

Potema Septim lounged on the throne in the Blue Palace and stared out of the window nearest to her. She looked out on a beautiful sunny day that was shining down on her subjects, and was content. The Penitus Oculatus would not fail her; Commander Maro's reputation was staked upon him retrieving the Elder Scroll and the vampire and returning them to her dungeons. The Master could not fault her for her actions, and there was nothing she could do to speed up that process. So, the Queen of Solitude had nothing else to do but enjoy simply being alive. After spending so many years between the barriers of life and death, she was glad to simply _be_. Potema had promised herself not to let this second opportunity slip through her fingers; and was even more determined not to let anyone take it from her by force. She was not afraid to annihilate anyone who questioned or threatened her position.

Erikur lounged on the chairs that were placed a step below the throne, gazing up at Elisif's relaxed expression with bitterness in his heart; bitterness he never let show on his face. Erikur reached for a tankard that was lying on the table next to him and drew a long, noisy gulp from the ale within. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Elisif's gaze turned from the window and instead focused on him, annoyance evident in her eyes. Erikur smiled a little to himself as he gulped down the repulsive liquid. He hated the taste of alcohol, in any form, but long ago he had decided that most people would never suspect a pitiful old drunk of anything suspicious. It had certainly enabled him to climb as high as he had; that, and his extraordinary mind for politics. Erikur knew which weaknesses to exploit, and exactly when they would be most damaging to the person concerned: when they were the most content.

Potema took her eyes off the irritating man drinking noisily from his tankard. She had dealt with men like him in her previous life and she knew that she could dispose of people like him and no one would miss him. Even a thane could meet a nasty accident in the secure streets of Solitude. Her ruby lips twitched slightly in the beginnings of a smile before she quelled it upon seeing a soldier rush into the court. His eyes were wild and he was clutching a sword in his hand. Potema motioned imperiously for her Housecarl to stop the soldier from coming too close; one could not be too careful after all.

"My lady," the soldier gasped, stopping of his own accord before her Housecarl reached him.

"What is it man?" Falk asked him, his eyebrows raised.

"A prisoner has escaped, my Jarl," the soldier said quickly, his eyes nervously darting around the room, looking anywhere but in Potema's eyes. The court gasped and Erikur's tankard crashed onto the floor after it slipped from his fingers, the noise echoing around the room.

"Which one?" Falk demanded quickly.

"The… the Dunmer vampire, my lord."

Potema's heart froze. A chill crept up her spine and her hands twitched.

"How did this happen? She was guarded by two Imperial soldiers day and night!" Falk shouted angrily.

"Forgive me my lord, but she had help. Me and my mate were standing by her cell, looking down the passage to the cell, when we felt very tired. The next thing we knew, we were waking up to the sight of an empty cell. My mate ran off immediately to search for her and I came here to tell the court," the soldier explained.

"Are you saying that magic was used to send you to sleep?" Sybille Stentor asked.

"Aye ma'am, that I am," the soldier replied.

"Leave us," Potema hissed. "Continue your search for the vampire. Get the rest of the guard, apart from those protecting the Palace and the gates to help you search. And lock down the city. No one leaves until the vampire is found."

"But Elisif, it's the middle of the day. You cannot halt trading," Erikur said, slurring his words slightly.

"I can and I will. And I expect you to use my full title, _Thane_ Erikur," Potema retorted swiftly.

"Well then, at least let me go to the docks and smooth things over with the East Empire Trading Company, my _Jarl_," Erikur replied.

"Fine, fine," she said, waving her hand arrogantly. "Go and deal with the rabble. But clean yourself up Erikur, you speak with my voice and I want my words to be well presented."

"I shall leave for my house at once," Erikur replied, saluting mockingly, before stumbling across the room and down the stairs.

Potema watched him go with distaste in her mouth, before turning to Falk Firebeard and the soldier. "How long do you think you have been unconscious for," she asked.

"Maybe an hour," the soldier replied. "The sun hasn't moved much since then."

"That is good news," she said. "Now go and find that vampire for your Jarl."

The soldier bowed and marched out of the room as Potema called her Housecarl to her side. "I want to be protected everywhere I go. Place two guards outside of my chambers and have two follow me wherever I go. I also want four guards by all entrances to the Blue Palace."

The man nodded and rushed off to do her bidding.

"I want everyone but Falk and Sybille to leave my sight and do what you can to help aid in the search," Potema ordered to the court. The room cleared immediately, hushed conversations springing up about the threat the vampire posed. Potema kept a smile fixed on her face until she was alone with her steward and court wizard. Then the smile immediately vanished.

"Sybille, tell me of the number of people in Solitude capable of casting a spell to put two of my guards to sleep and removing a highly secured prisoner from my dungeons."

"As for the spell," Sybille began carefully, "I think that it is an extremely complex Illusion spell and the amount of skill needed to do such a thing is high. However that is just from the description the guard gave me. If you dismiss me, I can go to the dungeons and analyse the scene myself, see if there are any traces of magic left over I can detect. That will give me a much clearer idea of-"

"That can be done in a moment," Potema interrupted, narrowing her eyes at the mage. "But I asked for a number Sybille, not musings. For now, I want a rough estimate of the number of people capable of doing this."

Sybille cleared her throat before saying, "Only a handful of people, my Jarl. However removing the vampire from the dungeons does not necessarily require magic, just knowledge of the Palace and shrewd planning."

"Does that figure include _you_ Sybille," Potema said coldly.

Falk gasped but Sybille remained expressionless. "Yes, my Jarl," was all that she said.

"Good," Potema said, and looked pointedly at the stairs. "You are dismissed."

Sybille nodded curtly, and turned on her heel, walking from the room.

"Falk," she said, after Sybille had left the vicinity. "When the day is up, and if the vampire has not been found, then I want the two guards brought to the interrogation rooms. We cannot rule out the possibility that they are traitors."

"Elisif, I assure you-"

"Jarl," Potema interrupted.

"Pardon?" Falk said, confused.

Potema glared at him before saying, "Jarl Elisif."

Falk's expression immediately hardened. "_Jarl_ Elisif, I assure you that the men serving the Blue Palace are loyal and courageous. They would not betray you."

"Do not let compassion blind you Falk. I will not let such an emotion stop me from finding that Dunmer bitch and dragging her back into the dungeons where she belongs! Now you will follow my command or it will be you that shall be under suspicion!" Potema yelled, rising from her throne and glaring at her steward.

There was a long silence before Falk bowed without saying a word and left the room.

Vireni ran through the tunnels underneath Solitude. She did not know who freed her, but she did know that those guards hadn't just fallen asleep under their own free will, and that her shackles hadn't just suddenly sprung open of their own accord. However she was grateful just to be out of those dungeons, away from Elisif and her torturers. But Vireni did not intend to be anyone's pawn. The person or persons that freed her may have had her thanks, but she was not intending to stay to find the reason for their generosity.

Vireni jumped over a stray pipe sticking through the tunnel and reached a ladder, through which a dim glow leaked through the hole in the roof of the tunnel. Vireni did not know how far she had run but she guessed that she had run far enough for this manhole cover to not be exiting into the Blue Palace. That would be ironic, if she popped up in Elisif's private chambers. Cautiously, she climbed the ladder, silent. When she reached the manhole cover, she placed an ear against it, her vampiric hearing trying to detect any noise coming from the area above. Vireni hadn't drunk blood in days and her hearing was a lot less effective than normal, but she did not think that anyone was on the other side of the room. Straining against the manhole cover, she managed to ease it gently from the hole, then climbed through.

"Excellent timing," a richly dressed, blond, Nord man said as Vireni stepped through the hole. She had entered what she thought was the basement of a house. However she barely noticed the man speaking. All she could hear was his blood rushing through his veins. Vireni began salivating and the Nord man noticed.

"Melaran!" the man exclaimed quickly. From behind Vireni, she heard a whispered sound of the movement of blue robes before a spell struck her from behind, paralyzing her. Vireni snarled as her limbs locked up and she collapsed to the ground. She saw, from ground level, the ankles of a robed mage walk around to the blond man.

"Erikur, I am not sure this was such a great idea," the mage said, concern evident in his voice.

"Oh hush, Melaran, and grab her legs," Erikur replied imperiously.

Melaran sighed before bending down to grab Vireni's legs. She tried to resist but she couldn't due to the mages spell. Erikur quickly replaced the cover on the manhole and then followed Melaran dragging Vireni's body upstairs and then into a parlour room. Melaran placed her in a chair with obvious exertion, and then attached shackles to her ankles and wrists.

"Good, you may release the spell," Erikur said. Melaran looked towards the blond Nord furtively, who in turn glared back at him impatiently. Sighing, again, the mage released his paralyze spell. Immediately Vireni lunged forward and tried to break free of the shackles, but they were magically reinforced and she could not break free of them. Erikur, unperturbed by her outburst, motioned to Melaran before saying, "I think it is best that we get her something to drink." Melaran nodded and stepped out of the room.

Erikur turned back to Vireni and appraised her. Vireni didn't like the way he looked at her, too… serpentine. "Vireni," he began, "I know how strange this must be for you, unaware as to why we have brought you here, but I feel that I must say that it was I who enabled you to escape, with the help of my employee, Melaran, here."

Almost as if it was planned, Melaran suddenly reappeared at the door holding a small goblet. The irrefutable metallic scent of blood was emanating from the goblet and immediately captured Vireni's attention. "Ah good, Melaran, perhaps you could give our guest her nourishment," Erikur stated blandly. Melaran grimaced and then once _again_, sighed, before handing Vireni the goblet. She eagerly grabbed the vessel from him and gulped the liquid down. She practically inhaled it, and she felt restored. Everything was brought back into focus and she didn't feel like an animal.

"Feeling better Vireni?" Erikur asked politely.

"How do you know my name? In fact, who are you?" Vireni replied without answering the man's previous question. It was a stupid one anyway, of course she felt better.

"I am Erikur, thane to Jarl Elisif. As for how I know your name, well, I have been in politics a long time. I need to know everything that happens in Solitude, and your theft of the Elder Scroll was definitely an event worth knowing about."

"I was not the one to steal the Scroll though, was I?" Vireni replied bitterly. "I was left behind."

"Indeed, you were, and, if I may, it was most callous of your friends to do so. I would never have suspected Geiric or Serana to be so callous," Erikur said gently.

"How do you know her name?" Vireni instantly queried.

Erikur just looked at her slyly.

"Fine, be all mysterious, you pathetic man. Why did you release me from Elisif's dungeons?"

"Now that is an intriguing question isn't it?" Erikur replied, his lips twitching upwards in a smile.

Vireni narrowed her eyes at him but didn't say anything. She merely waited.

"Oh, well if you are going to give me the silent treatment I guess I will just have to tell you then," Erikur continued eventually. "What you must first grasp is that in Skyrim, at this very point in time, everything is in upheaval. Power and alliances are shifting, and when everything has stabilised, I firmly intend to be on top."

"You want to be Jarl of Solitude," Vireni guessed.

"Exactly," Erikur hissed, his eyes suddenly coming alight with passion. "And I intend to do more with that power than Elisif has done. All she does is sit on that throne and bark out orders to anyone who is listening at the time."

"Whereas you would…?" Vireni said, raising her eyebrows.

"Well, that is for me to know," Erikur replied swiftly. "Where you come in is very simple."

"Good, I would hate to be complicated," Vireni said.

"Your freedom will achieve two tasks for me. One, it will cause Elisif to look weak in front of the Imperial legion and her citizens; as well as when the highest ranking member of the Thalmor in Skyrim, Ondolemar, comes to visit Solitude unexpectedly to inspect Elisif's conduct."

"Ondolemar? But from what I have heard, he is only the _third_ highest member of the Thalmor in Skyrim. First is Elenwen, and second is Ancano," Vireni said. She was surprised, she would have thought that a man spending all his time in the Imperial court would at least know his Thalmor.

"Ah, but Ancano was destroyed weeks ago, when he stupidly thought he could control the Eye of Magnus and defeat the Dragonborn. As for Elenwen, well…" Erkiur trailed off, grinning maliciously as he did so, "that's where the second task your freedom will achieve for me comes in."

Erikur continued to grin and Vireni's mouth narrowed into a thin line. She waited for the obnoxious man to continue with his tale. However, Erikur kept grinning at her and it began to get a bit disconcerting. "So, what is this second task of yours?" Vireni eventually asked.

"I need you to infiltrate the Thalmor Embassy and kill Elenwen for me. I also need you to make sure that it looks like a vampire attacked her. If you could also let yourself be seen as you exit the embassy then that will also be appreciated."

Vireni stared at him for a moment, and yet the smug smile on Erikur's face did not disappear. "You must not be serious," she whispered.

"No you're right. I was joking," Erikur said amiably. "I broke you out from one of Skyrim's most secure prisons for a laugh! Definitely. It was all just for a really funny joke. It's just that this joke ends with the death of a highborn Altmer and the disgrace of a Jarl."

"I would like to thank you for getting me out of that vile place," Vireni began cautiously. "But I cannot do this for you. I have unfinished business with a certain vampire _bitch_ who left me behind to rot."

"Oh I am sure you do," Erikur said, no longer grinning. "But my request takes precedence. You see, what you may not have realised whilst you were gulping that blood down like a filthy animal was that it was laced by a slow acting, but highly effective poison."

Vireni's heart turned to ice and her breath caught in her throat.

"Quite," Erikur said smugly. "Suffice it to say, but, deathbell and nightshade both feature in this toxin, as well as a little something Melaran cooked up. Return to me in three days once the job is done and I will give you the antidote. Fail in completing the task, or try to run, then be prepared to suffer a slow death. Oh and if you try and attack me to try and force me to give you the cure, know that you will fail. And just in case you are more savage than you look, I will be spending the next two days and twenty three hours in the Blue Palace. At this time in three days, I will be in this exact room, waiting to hear of your success."

Erikur stood up and went to the door, leaving her panting in fear in the chair. "Good luck, my dear. Melaran will be along to free you in just a moment." Then he left the room.

Vireni's heart began to beat again but only in terror. Who was this man? Why could she never escape tyranny like this? First Lokil, then Croel, Elisif and now Erikur. Would she ever be free?


End file.
